


And I'm Waiting For The Sun

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Becoming a Pack [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Multi, Other Established Relationships, Past Domestic Abuse, Polyamorous Pack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack still hasn't healed from their last big encounter, but the rest of the world doesn't care. The only way they can save everyone this time is if they can find out how to truly come together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> This is the final part of the Becoming a Pack series and also my final Teen Wolf fic (at least I hope so, I doubt I'll be inspired again). I'm gifting it to SublimeDiscordance, because our friendship started with Teen Wolf and he's been so helpful in inspiring so much of my writing in this fandom and others so it only seems right. 
> 
> I'm expecting this to end up being between 40k-100k. I honestly don't know for sure how long it will be. It depends on how quickly I can write. This series will be done by the end of April regardless of how long it ends up being. 
> 
> If you're just seeing this fic and haven't read the other parts, please do yourself a favor and go back and read at least Children of the Wild Ones. Otherwise you'll be entirely lost as to what's happening. 
> 
> The three tagged relationships are the ones that are going to be the main focus of this fic, but there's going to be a lot of background ones as well. I have some ideas for some other relationships but I want to get further into the fic before I tag them.
> 
> The title of this fic is taken from Where I Live by Woodkid. His music, as well as Say Anything's, were the the driving force of the majority of the fics in this series so it only seemed right to get my title from that.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has stuck around this long. It's been almost four years since I started this series so if you're still here, I love you.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Lydia tapped her fingers along the steering wheel of her car. She couldn’t quite place why she was so nervous, especially given how much time she’d spent with Deaton and given how much the pack relied on him for information. This was different though. This was more personal.

Lydia took a deep breath and snatched up the journal that sat in her passenger seat. The whispering voices radiating from it reached a shout but Lydia pushed it down, schooling her expression into something neutral as she exited her car. She set the journal down on the counter as soon as she entered the clinic and sighed at the relief from the cacophony of voices.

"Hello, Lydia,” Deaton said.

Lydia looked across the counter and smiled. “Hi. We need to talk.”

“I would imagine so,” Deaton said. He picked up the journal and turned it over in his hands. “This looks very old.”

“It is,” Lydia said. “A Selkie gave it to me. Apparently it’s from a banshee who died in the early 1900s or something.”

Deaton raised his eyebrows. “Now that is very interesting. When did you get this?”

"Just after Christmas. I should’ve brought it earlier but I haven’t really had the time.”

"Why don’t we go to the back,” Deaton said. “I actually have a visitor right now who might be able to provide some insight.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Lydia didn’t try and take the journal back as she followed after Deaton to the back room. She was more than happy to have a break from all the shouting. When they entered the room, Lydia’s eyes were drawn to the tall, white woman dressed in slim-fitting jeans and a baggy Beacon Hills sweatshirt was perched on the metal table. Her head was bowed, curly brown hair hiding her face as she scrolled through something on her phone.

“Jennifer, I’d like you to meet Lydia,” Deaton said.

Jennifer looked up, ruby red lips splitting into a smile. “Hi. We were just talking about you. Well, not _you_ specifically, but the pack.”

"Oh.” Lydia glanced at Deaton, raising on eyebrow. “So who are you exactly?”

"Jennifer is a retired emissary,” Deaton said. “She was with a pack in Mississauga that disbanded and was absorbed into other packs.”

“I’m also a banshee,” Jennifer said, eyes flicking to the journal in Deaton’s hand. “And that is a banshee journal.”

Lydia sucked in a tight breath. “I didn’t realize.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re still young. So where’d you get the book?” she asked, hopping off the counter.

“Give me a second, I’m still wrapping my head around not being the only banshee in Beacon Hills,” Lydia said.            

“It’s only temporary,” Jennifer said. “I’m filling in for Miss Morrell until she’s back from Europe. Do you mind if I look?”

“Just don’t open it,” Lydia said. “It can’t be opened yet.”

“Is that what you hear?” Jennifer asked. She took the book from Deaton and ran her fingers over the rough edges. “I’m glad I came. You definitely need some training.”

"It’s mine, so don’t open it,” Lydia said, unsure of where the anger was coming from.

“Easy,” Jennifer said. “I’ll do what you ask. But really, you and I need to set aside some time to train you so you can sort the voices out properly.”

“So are these journals common for banshees?” Deaton asked.

“Not _common_ but there’s been enough of them cropping up here and there to make them well known,” Jennifer said. She looked up at Lydia. “This one is relatively new in comparison to the others. Do you know who it belonged to?”

“I’m not sure. I guess she died in like, 1918,” Lydia said. “There’s a name on the back though. It’s just really faded so I can’t quite see it.”

Jennifer turned it over and ran her fingers over the faded name, making the faded text glow with a faint purple light as she did so. “It says Vera Reagan.”

“How did you do that?” Lydia asked, taking a half step closer before stopping herself.

"Banshees are low level telepaths,” Jennifer said. “And we leave psychic imprints on items of personal value, especially journals and things like that. I’ll teach you how to access those abilities later, if you don’t mind letting me teach you of course.”

"No, yeah that’s fine. I’d love that actually,” Lydia said.

"And her name sounds familiar too, which is good,” Jennifer said. “I’ll have to look through my contacts.”

"You have contacts for other banshees?” Lydia asked. “How many of us are there, and how old do we get if you’ve been alive long enough to know a woman who died in 1918?”

“Easy,” Jennifer said with a laugh. “Life expectancy really varies among banshees. It has a lot to do with their environment and how powerful they are, but there aren’t many of us left.” She looked over at Deaton. “Have you not told her anything?”

“We’ve had a lot on our plate recently,” Deaton said with his usual unreadable but pleasant expression.

“We only figured out what I was a few months ago too,” Lydia said. She was pissed that Deaton hadn’t gotten her in touch with Jennifer earlier but she wasn’t about to air that in front of someone they barely knew.

"I’m more than happy to help whenever you have the time,” Jennifer said.

“Sure,” Lydia said, holding her hand out to take the book back. “I’ll be in touch when I have more time.”

“Right,” Jennifer said with a small as she handed her the journal. “Deaton can pass on my information. I look forward to meeting with you again.”

Lydia gave a dry smile and shoved the book back in her purse. She left without another word.

 

-.-

 

“McCall! My office!”

Scott glanced up at Coach Finstock as he finished shoving his practice uniform in his bag. It was only the second practice of the year so he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to piss him off so soon. The locker room felt lonely too. Stiles wasn’t on the team for the sake of not pushing himself too hard and Jackson had enough bitter feelings about the last time he’d been on a lacrosse field that there was no reason for him to add to it. Isaac had planned to join the team, only to back out last minute. Boyd was still on the fence but Scott wasn’t holding his breath. Even with all that, Scott couldn’t bring himself to quit. It was kind of his last tie to the real world he supposed.

“What’s up?” Scott asked as he entered Coach Finstock’s office.

“Take a seat, McCall,” he said.

Scott did so, trying not to squirm when he was fixed with a hard, unblinking stare. “Uh…”

“Where’s my team,” Finstock asked.

“I’m…sorry?”

“My team, McCall, half of which is your little gaggle of friends. Where are they?”

“I don’t…they’re focusing more on school I guess,” Scott said.

"Okay well try and convince them to come back. It’s only junior year, they have a whole other year to fix their GPAs,” Finstock said.

"I’ll let them know,” Scott said. “Is that it or…?”

"Also you’re the captain again this year. Be responsible about it,” Finstock said.

“Got it.”

Scott left before Finstock could say anything else. Stiles and Boyd were waiting for him in the cafeteria, their homework spread out all over the table. Scott sat down across from them and let his head thunk down on the table.

“Rough practice?” Stile asked, flicking Scott’s ear with his pencil.

“No, Coach is just being his usual weird self,” Scott mumbled into the table.

“I might not be on the team now, but I’ll still help you rig his office up if you want,” Stiles said.

Scott turned his face enough to look at Stiles and smiled. “Thanks.”

"Why are you still doing it anyways?” Boyd asked.

Scott shrugged and sat up. “It’ just nice to do something normal for a bit.

_Forget the last few traumatizing months._

That part went unsaid between the three of them. Scott looked at Stiles and not for the first time finds it impossible to get any sort of read on him. Stiles’ phone went off with a text and after glancing at it he started to pack his things up.

“Lydia’s picking me up,” Stiles said. “I’m staying at the Argents tonight. My dad has a late shift tonight so I figured…better to be somewhere else.”

 _Somewhere I’m not alone_.

That went unsaid too. Scott wished Stiles could still come to him with the hard stuff, but there were far passed that.

“You need a ride,” Scott asked, nodding in Boyd’s direction.

“Yeah, sure.”

           

-.-

           

“So our new counselor is a banshee and she knows Deaton which means Deaton’s been lying this _whole_ time about not having any resources, which is so fucking typical-“

Stiles frowned as he stared out the window while Lydia drove. “Wait, the new school counselor is a banshee?”

"Yeah, I guess she’s an old friend of Deaton’s or something,” Lydia said.

Stiles sat up a bit straighter. “Maybe I could talk to her.”

Lydia glanced at him before looking back at the road. “You want to talk to someone now?”

"Maybe. Allison’s kind of been talking me into it we just weren’t sure if there’d be anyone I could talk to about you know, all of this,” Stiles said. “Not without getting locked up in an institution anyways.”

“Yeah, lets avoid that maybe,” Lydia said. “It could be good though. I know we haven’t been able to really do much for you.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles said. “I’ll talk to my dad about it I guess.” He shook his head to clear it, not really keen on continuing to talk about his issues. “So was she able to help you with the banshee journal thing?”

“No…” Lydia bit her lip. “And maybe that’s my fault. It’s hard to trust her on a first meeting with something that could fuck up our lives again.”

Stiles slumps against the window again. “Do you think it will ever stop? Feels like it’s never going to stop.”

“I don’t know Stiles,” Lydia said. “But no matter what happens when I finally do open that thing up, I’ll keep you out of it.”

A year ago, Stiles was sure he’d protest. After all, so much of his time before Derek had become the Alpha had been spent doing his best to protect Lydia. Part of him _does_ still want to help. He wants to protect his friends, at least in theory, but that doesn’t stop the relief he feels from Lydia’s words.

 

-.-

 

Derek hesitated outside the house. No one was home, which was a first in awhile. He’d gone for a run to beat back some of the anxiety that had been simmering below his skin from being alone in such a giant house again. He and Isaac were doing better, but he still spent a lot more time with Scott or Erica. It made the house feel less like his.

The wind shifted directions, carrying the scent of someone unfamiliar around the back of the house. He stepped carefully over to the house, scaling the porch as soundlessly as possible and then trekking across the roof. When he reached the other side, he crouched down by one of the windows that stuck out from the roof.

He didn’t recognize the woman standing in the forest. She was older, a proper adult instead of like the members of his pack. She was wearing high heeled boots and she almost stumbled over one of the many roots that twisted through each other throughout the backyard. Overall, she didn’t come off as much of a threat. He leapt down from the roof, deliberately landing on some twigs to crack and get her attention.

"This is private property,” he said.

"I know, sorry,” she said, pushing back some of her wavy locks of brown hair and then thrusting her hand forward to shake. “Deaton gave me directions, you just don’t have a proper road up here so I decided to walk.”

Derek put his hands in his pockets and waited for her to drop her hand. “What’s your name?”

"Uh…Jennifer Blake. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or offend you or something. How does the rest of your back drive back here?” she asked.

“Their cars handle off-road conditions well,” Derek said. “And they know where the old road used to be.”

"Oh. Right.” Jennifer looked away.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m…the new counselor at the high school,” she said, looking back up for a brief moment before looking away again. “And from what Deaton’s told me, I thought it would be good to reach out to them personally.”

“Why the hell would Deaton tell you anything about my pack?” Derek asked, not bothering to keep the hostility out of his voice.

“Right, sorry, I’m doing this all wrong. I’m a banshee, like Lydia, and I’m a good friend of Deaton and Miss Morrell,” she said. “But I’m certified to be a therapist so I thought maybe I could help while I’m around.”

Derek pressed his lips together in a fine line. “We’re fine, thanks. Don’t come here again.”

"Wait!" Jennifer said when he started to walk away.

Derek sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What?”

“All due respect, I get it, you’re an Alpha, but you are _not_ equipped to handle the trauma you put all these kids through,” Jennifer said, her voice firm.

He wanted to lash out at her. She didn’t know anything, no matter what she claimed to have learned from Deaton. But…maybe she didn’t have all the information but she did understand the crux of the issue. She did know Derek wasn’t capable of fixing his own pack.

“I don’t trust you yet,” he finally settled on.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jennifer said. “I just wanted to offer my help. I want to reach out to the people in your pack, but I didn’t want to go behind your back. So….will you let me reach out to them?”

Derek let a beat of silence stretch between them. “That’s up to them. But I don’t want to see you here again.”

“Got it.”

Derek headed back into the house before she could say anything else.

 

-.-

 

“Where are you staying tonight?” Erica asked.

She was leaning over her bed to stare down at Isaac who was stretched out on her floor staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t know.” He sighed. “Boyd wants to spend time on his own with Scott, and Stiles is with the Argents again so I can’t go there.”

“You could go home.”

Isaac’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I don’t know. I thought it was getting better but whenever Derek and I are alone, we don’t know how to be around each other. It’s like…”

Erica rolled off the bed and settled down next to him on her back to stare at the ceiling with him. She took his hand and squeezed it.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

“Like…you know how when this started, Derek was like _the_ Alpha? He was controlling and made it so we didn’t have to think about anything, just do what he said,” Isaac said. “That was safe. It made _Derek_ safe. But now he’s not like that anymore. I know he’s just as human as us and fucks up just as much as we do.”

“Can’t trust him anymore,” Erica said. “The dynamic you had romantically is all fucked up.”

“Exactly,” Isaac said.

Erica sighed. “Yeah, I have no idea how the fuck you’d fix that.”

Isaac barked out a harsh laugh, prompting a giggle from Erica. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s shitty.”

“Better to laugh about it,” Erica said, curling into his side. “Otherwise you dwell on it.”

Isaac slid his fingers through her hair. “What about you though? How are you dealing with the whole…”

“Being a horrible monster?” Erica gave a one armed shrug. “Better. Allison and I have been talking about it. I don’t know how she does it, honestly. She’s more of an adult than her own adult.”

“Chris isn’t that bad,” Isaac said.

“He’s emotionally stunted. And he’s murdered a ton of people,” Erica said. “I don’t really trust his moral authority because he doesn’t actually seem to think it’s wrong. Allison…learned from her mistakes. It makes me feel like I can too.”

Isaac turned his head to kiss her temple. “I love you, you know that?”

Erica propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. When she smiled, it looked genuine for the first time in a long time. “Love you too.”

 

-.-

 

Allison ducked under the swing of Stiles’ staff and then snuck under his guard to stab the fake knife up against his ribs. Stiles cursed and they both stepped away from each other. Sweat poured into her eyes no matter how much she wiped it away. Stiles learned against his staff, head bowed.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” she said.

“Okay. We should switch it up next time,” Stiles said. “You’re really good with knives.”

“If you want, then sure,” Allison said.

She didn’t want to push him. She wasn’t sure why Stile wanted to practice his skills so much when he was still grappling with the end result of learning those skills in the first place. At the same time, she didn’t want to tell him how to process what he was feeling. Here, in such a controlled environment, there wasn’t a chance of him losing himself in a cycle of self-destructive thoughts on his own the way he had when he fought and sparred with Erica. Allison was out of her element, but at least she could give him somewhere safe to work it out. “Have you done the physics homework?” she asked as she took their weapons and put them in their proper places so they could start to cool down.

"Yeah. I’m actually pretty good at it,” Stiles said. “I can help you with it if you want.”

“Thanks. That’d be good.” Her breath hissed out as she stretched out her legs. “Have you thought about college?”

Stiles spread his legs out and bent down to grab his ankles. “Not really. I know I need to think about it soon but…it’s hard to think about the future when I’m just trying to get through the day.”

Allison bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from apologizing. “Makes sense.”

Stiles straightened up and drew his arm across his chest. “What about you?”

“No idea,” Allison said as she copied his stretches. “Is it weird that I’m trying to think of what career would help the pack best?”

“It’s kind of taken over our lives, so not really,” Stiles said. “Do you ever think…”

Allison switched arms. “Think what?”

“Do you ever think we’ve given the pack too much to ever really walk away?”

The question was like a punch to the gut. It was something she worried about, at night and alone in her bed as she contemplated everything that happened to her, and her family, and her friends.

“Yeah, I do,” she said. “Do you want to walk away?”

Stiles sighed, arms dropping to hang limply at his sides. “I think I do. I…Scott’s my best friend. I killed to keep everyone safe and now I have to deal with the aftermath of that. But…I never wanted to get caught up in all of this in the first place, you know? I fucking _said_ that to Lydia the first time I showed up at a pack night.”

His voice was trembling and Allison crossed the space between them to grab his hands.

“You’re not _trapped_ here. If you leave the pack, it doesn’t mean everything you’ve sacrificed was pointless, okay?” She forced him to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to think of yourself first.”

Stiles’ lips twisted into a bitter smile, his bottom lip trembling as a few tears escape him. “But it’s all or nothing, isn’t it? Either I stay and keep sacrificing to make sure we’re safe, or I leave and figure out a life without the pack. I can’t do a middle ground, can’t be friends and not interfere when things get hard and dangerous again. It’s either one or the other.”

Allison swallowed and tugged Stiles against her. She didn’t have an answer. There was nothing she could say to make him feel better because neither of them believed false platitudes. Not anymore. But she could do this. She could hold him though. She could support him and let him cry and shake and work through it on her own. She just hoped that was enough.             


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia learns about the origin of banshees, Stiles reaches out, and Scott realizes something is starting to change inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags, please heed them before reading. Not beta'd. Blatant bastardizing of Greek mythology (not too bad tho)

Lydia didn’t tell anyone about her first meeting with Jennifer. She wanted to get a read on the woman on her own without any outside opinions coloring her perception. She wasn’t sure why she was so suspicious. After all, Jennifer had been nothing but kind to her, and yet when she’d touched Vera’s journal, all Lydia could feel was anxiety. She didn’t dare share her suspicions with Stiles, or anyone else really because they might tell him. Jennifer was the closest thing to real help he’d been offered.

She entered the vet clinic and nodded at Deaton as she passed to head for the basement where Stiles and Danny used to train when they were becoming emissaries. She hadn’t brought the journal with her this time. Something told her not to and she was starting to learn to actually trust her instincts. She felt a little guilty about it when she reached the basement and saw Jennifer sitting on one of the mats scrolling through her phone, legs crossed underneath her and looking entirely normal.

“Do you want me to sit too?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jennifer said, looking up at her and then tucking her phone back in her pocket. “We’re just going to be doing some basic meditation things so you’ll want to be comfortable.”

“Right.” Lydia sat down and folded her legs beneath her. “So what now?”

“We’ll start with the basics, which is just becoming aware of every part of your body. Once you get good at that, finding and locating your power will become easier,” Jennifer said. “So close your eyes. We’re going to start with your fingers.”

Jennifer’s voice was soothing as she walked Lydia through tensing her fists, then her arms, her shoulders, her neck. After tensing each muscle she was told to release it. It made Lydia feel a bit dizzy, as if the more in tune she became with her body, the more power she could feel thrumming under her skin, rushing to her head to be noticed.

“Okay, we’ll stop a moment, I wasn’t expecting that,” Jennifer said.

“What-“

“Don’t open your eyes,” Jennifer said. “You accessed your power on accident and I don’t want to lose it while we’ve got it.”

"It doesn’t feel like I’ve done anything,” Lydia said, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

“Just. Hold on,” Jennifer said. She sounded flustered, which didn’t help the mild panic that was starting to rise in Lydia’s chest at all. “I want you to think of your energy reaching out to me and my mind, okay?”

“I don’t even know what my energy _looks_ like,” Lydia snapped.

"It’s white, yours is anyways,” Jennifer said. “You’re kind of glowing right now. So imagine pushing that glow out to me.”

Lydia took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose to try and keep herself calm before doing as Jennifer ordered. As soon as she did, her head started to spin again but before she can recoil, voices flood into her brain, overwhelming and loud as they clamored for her attention. She couldn’t help but pull in then, tugging in her energy tight and then letting it dissipate, taking the voices with it.

When she opened her eyes, Jennifer was staring at her with wide eyes. She felt completely drained, her muscles trembling and her vision alternating between being perfectly fine to seeing double of everything. Lydia took another deep breath and then laid back, closing her eyes again and trying to steady herself.

"What the fuck was that?” she asked as soon as she felt she could talk again.

“You accessed your powers,” Jennifer said. She sounded as breathless as Lydia. “But I’ve never met someone with such a strong psychic connection to the telepathic bond that all banshees have.”

“Which you still haven’t explained, by the way,” Lydia said, unable to help the irritation anymore.

“Right.” Jennifer sounded sheepish. “I guess I can go over the lore first and then we can try to connect with your powers again.”

“Probably a good idea, yeah,” Lydia said through gritted teeth.

“Just, uh, stay laying down and recover while I talk,” Jennifer said. “Banshees were created by the Titans, or at least that’s how the story goes. The first records of their existence, both by humans and ourselves, are from the Greek times.”

“What type of records,” Lydia asked. “I’ve never read anything about banshees in Greek mythology.”

“Well the only banshee in Greek mythology is the Oracle of Delphi, Pythia,” Jennifer said. “The rest of the records are ours, the banshees. Our records are memories imprinted through a telepathic bond we all have onto objects of the past. Some of it is recorded in the journals banshees have written in an attempt to consolidate their history. It’s hard to describe, given that you haven’t done it yourself.”

“Then try,” Lydia said. She’d be glaring if she weren’t horizontal with her eyes closed.

“Right, sorry. So banshees are naturally attuned to the pulse of life in the earth and in people and that some pulse flows through us. Our reading of that energy can ‘predict’ death because the pulse of life moves forwards and backwards through time because of how connected each person’s actions are to the death of another,” Jennifer said. “And we can also use the pulse to communicate and locate each other. It’s that same energy that we can use to put our memories into an object for another banshee to access later.”

“How many of us are there?” Lydia asked. It was a bit overwhelming to be given so much information about herself after struggling on her own for so long, but she desperately wanted to absorb as much as she could about who she really was.

"About seventy or so. Most of them were lost around the fall of Athens, as that’s where most of them were located,” Jennifer said, her voice growing quieter. “There used to be thousands across the world, that’s why you see so much about oracles and psychics and soothsayers in that era, no matter what location. From what we’ve gathered over the years, decades really, is that they broke their power and themselves to hold back some great evil. The details are murky though. So much was lost without being properly recorded.”

Lydia let out an unsteady breath. “Great. Nothing like a dark past to get some enthusiasm for learning my abilities.”

“Sorry,” Jennifer said.

“So what about my journal?” Lydia asked. “Did you find out who wrote it and what she might know?”

“Yes, actually. Vera Reagan isn’t her real name,” Jennifer said. “One of my contacts has an ever growing collection of the changing identities of the oldest surviving banshees. Vera Reagan was the longest surviving banshee from the Greek era. She was one of the Phiobe sisters who were said to be the first banshees created. Her name was really Electra, but she’s been notoriously reclusive, only showing up here and there throughout history so no one has ever been able to talk to her about our history, or if they have they never had a chance to record it.”

“Oh.” It was all Lydia could think to say. She had known it was important of course, but to think she held the earliest record of the history of _all_ banshees was a lot to digest. “So it talks to me because Electra’s voice and memories are imprinted on it?”

"Yup. It’s unclear to you what she’s saying because you don’t have any practice reading the telepathic energy you feel,” Jennifer said. ‘But I haven’t seen a banshee access so much raw power before so I think you’ll catch on fast.”

“At least there’s that,” Lydia mumbled. “So how long am I going to live if Electra survived from Greek times?”

“It depends,” Jennifer said. “The more you come into your power, the more energy you have access to and that’s what determines how long a banshee lives.”

“So the more powerful I get, the longer I live?”

“Basically?”

Lydia took a deep breath. “I think that’s enough for today.” She sat up slowly wincing as the world tried to settle into place once she opened her eyes.

"I’m sorry. It’s a lot all at once, I know,” Jennifer said. “You’re young still. It’s okay that it feels overwhelming.”

“This is hardly the worst thing I’ve dealt with,” Lydia said as she got to her feet.

“Possibly true but it’s not every day you realize you have the potential to be immortal,” Jennifer said, getting to her feet as well.

“I don’t want to be,” Lydia said as she met Jennifer’s eyes. “It would get very lonely and without the people I love?” Lydia shook her head. “I don’t need immorality.”

"You learn to love other people,” Jennifer said with a shrug.

Lydia readjusted her purse on her shoulder. “So how long have you been around.”

“I’m 497,” Jennifer said.

"Pretty powerful then,” Lydia said, the suspicion creeping back into her.

“Yes, I suppose so. I’m the longest living banshee right now,” Jennifer said.

"So why are you here, helping me and playing counselor, if you’re so powerful?” Lydia asked.

Jennifer shook her head, a disbelieving huff of laughter escaping her. “I’ve lived a long time, Lydia. I didn’t lose my humanity in the process. I’ve got a lot of experience and it makes me a damn good counselor, so that’s what I do. I enjoy it. What is it with you and the Hale Pack? You’re so suspicious of what I do.”

“We rarely have new people in town that want to help us,” Lydia said.

“I get that. But I do want to help.”

Lydia pressed her lips together in a firm line. “That’s what Jackson told the Casia Pack. And now, most of them are dead.”

Jennifer opened her mouth to speak but Lydia didn’t want to hear anymore. She needed time to process everything. She needed to root herself back in her pack again.

 

-.-

 

Scott almost missed the scent of Raphael when he reached the front door. He paused, hand on the door knob. He’d gotten into a bit of a habit of just running any time Raphael decided to show up and sneak into the house to either ambush him or his mom into a conversation. He was too close with the BHPD to bother calling the police, even if Stiles’ dad didn’t like him. Which means…maybe he should stop running and actually deal with him.

Scott opened the door, kicking it shut behind him and then following his nose to the kitchen where Rafael was sitting at the kitchen table. He tossed his school bag onto the table and sat down across from him.

“What do you want?”

“Hello, Sco-“

“You’re trespassing. What do you want?” Scott asked.

Rafael coughed and straightened in his seat. “I was hoping we could have a real conversation about this town and the weird things that happen here. I’m tired of fighting the Sheriff on this, and I know you know something, and I just want to do my job and help close some of these cases.”

“Why do you think I know something?” Scott asked.

“Derek Hale has been a suspect in three different cases, and you and your friends spend a hell of a lot of time around him,” Rafael said. “You’ve got to understand where I’m coming from Scott. I’m trying to protect you-“

“Yeah, you did a great job of that when you beat the shit out of mom, didn’t you?” Scott asked, the anger surging up hot in his chest and roiling through his blood.

"That’s not fair, Scott.”

“Yes it is. I don’t know anything. That’s on record and you have no legal reason to keep pestering me,” Scott said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You should leave.”

Rafael sighed and got to his feet. “You can’t keep acting like this Scott. One day you’ll have to forgive me because we all make mistakes. Holding onto a grudge will just make it worse.”

“Leave.”

Rafael obeyed but it didn’t make Scott feel powerful. He didn’t feel listened to, because he knew Rafael just fine, knew how manipulative he could be. When the front door slammed shut, Scott relaxed into his chair. His heart rate felt too fast, like it was trying to rattle its way permanently out of Scott’s chest. He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed water on his face, trying to yank himself back into his body. His eyes flickered over to his distorted reflection in the shiny metal of the sink. Red eyes stared back at him.

He reeled back, racing to the hallway to look in a proper mirror. By then though, a perfectly normal reflection stared bright back at him, not even a hint of supernatural color. He took a deep breath and pulled out his phone, texting Derek to let him know he was on his way over. He had a pack. He had support. He wasn’t alone with his question and fears, wasn’t alone when it came to facing his father.

He just had to remember that.

 

-.-

 

Stiles knee bounced up and down as he stared down at his phone. Danny’s name and phone number stared right back at him and all it would take was a few thumb strokes to call. It still felt impossible. He’d needed space to try and heal, and so did Danny. He knew what he wanted to say, but he worried it would open a can of worms and he and Danny would fall headfirst back into a relationship neither of them were ready for.

He hit call.

It rung long enough that Stiles started to wonder if Danny was ignoring him. Before he could hang up, Danny answered. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke and for another second, Stiles entertained the idea of hanging up anyways.

“Stiles, it’s kind of serial killer-y of you just to breath into the phone,” Danny said.

“Right,” Stiles said, letting out a loud breath. “I just…I scheduled my first appointment with the new counselor for tomorrow. She knows about all the uh, supernatural shit. Thought maybe you could work out some of your issues with the pack too.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, that’d be good. I guess we lucked out.”

“Yeah…” Stiles flopped back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

“How are you?” Danny asked, voice soft.

“Better, maybe. The nightmares aren’t as bad or frequent or…” Stiles trailed off. “My dad and I are talking more, so that helps too. It’s…better than what it was.”

"That’s good,” Danny said. “I…I’m sorry I couldn’t help but I’m glad other people can.”

“Thanks, and don’t be sorry. It would be a lot for anyone,” Stiles said. “I…miss you. I miss being with you.”

“Stiles,” Danny started.

“No, I know, I know. I’m…not in a place where I could do a relationship,” Stiles said. “I just mean that I miss that feeling, and I guess I’m worried I’ll never get to feel it again.”

"You will. It’s just going to take awhile, but you’re on the right path,” Danny said. “It seems like everyone is starting to figure out how to move forward.”

“We’re never going to get back to what we were,” Stiles said. “And I don’t just mean you and me, _everyone_ in the pack has changed too much to go back to what we were before all of this.”

“Maybe you should stop trying then,” Danny said. “Figure out what works for you now, not what worked for you a year ago.”

“You’d make a good therapist,” Stiles said, lips quirking up into a smile.

“I’ll add it to the list of possible career choices,” Danny said. “I should go, but thanks for telling me about the new counselor. I think it’d be good for me.”

“Yeah, not a problem.”

Stiles felt a bit better when he hung up. Talking to Danny made him feel a bit more normal again, only scraping around the edges of the hard issues he faced on a regular basis. He wanted to move forward. He needed to.

 

-.-

 

Derek get ambushed by Lydia and Scott at the same time, both of them reaching his front door at the same time.

“This wasn’t planned, for what it’s worth,” Lydia said when Derek lets them both in. “I just need some time to process some things and bounce around some ideas. Scott?”

“Uh…”

Scott stopped in the archway to the living room as Derek and Lydia sat on the couch. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Scott look so unsure of himself, freaked out like he’d been when he’d first been turned.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

“My dad was home, which okay, that’s bad, but uh…my eyes turned red,” Scott said, avoiding Derek’s eyes. “Not in front of him, but after he left and I…what’s happening?”

“I uh, don’t know. We could talk to Deaton and see if he has any ideas, or maybe Chris,” Derek said.

“Great,” Scott said. Derek could hear his heart racing in his chest.

“Come here,” Derek said, forcing some command into his voice.

Scott responded almost instantly, shoulders slumping down as he crossed the room and folded into Derek’s side on the couch. Derek slung an arm over his shoulders. “Whatever it is, it’s not bad. Your place in this pack has always fluctuated because you’re a natural born leader, and we don’t know why it happened this time but waiting around to find out won’t hurt you.”

“I feel like a child, freaking out like this,” Scott said.

“We’re all still learning about our powers,” Lydia said, reaching across Derek’s lap to squeeze Scott’s knee. “We’re not really a normal pack.”

“I know,” Scott said.

He rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, the closeness soothing the anxiety flowing through all three of them.

“I’ve started working with Deaton’s friend. The banshee,” Lydia said, the words tumbling out of her like she hadn’t meant to say them. “I…don’t know if we can trust her.”

“She approached me too,” Derek said.

Lydia leaned into his side and he tucked his other arm around her so she could tuck her face into his neck. “She told me a lot, more than Deaton’s ever told me and more than we’ve ever been able to dig out of those books. Speaking of, I brought that journal with me. I want to leave it with you, if I could.”

“Uh, why?” Derek asked.

“Because I don’t really trust her but I need to learn more about my powers from her,” Lydia said. “And I want that journal to be safe. It’s written by one of the first banshees that ever existed and…that seems important.”

“I’ll hold onto it,” Derek said.

“Or we can cycle it, so there’s no chance of her ever knowing who has it,” Scott said. “But…Stiles said he’s getting therapy from her.”

Derek’s hand curled tighter around Scott’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t be enough for you guys. For Stiles.”

Lydia sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “We…yelled a lot at each other and at you, but you’re not a psychologist. You can’t help Stiles with what he’s feeling and it’s good that there’s someone who can help him even if we don’t quite trust her. Then again…maybe we’re just being paranoid.”

Derek closed his eyes. “I don’t know if it’s paranoia. We’ve never been able to trust anyone.”

"But we can’t live like that,” Scott said. “We can’t rebuff everyone that comes into Beacon Hills, especially when they can actually help us. Maybe we should…wait and see if she hurts us.”

“What if we don’t know until she hurts Stiles?” Lydia asked.

“Well what else do we do? Tell him not to get help?” Scott asked. “I can’t do that to him. We’ve failed him, all of us have, and Allison is doing her best but he needs someone who’s a professional. So…for now let’s just see what she does and take what we can from her in the mean time.”

“I don’t know if you guys even need me,” Derek said, only half joking. “You two come up with a pretty good game plan on your own.”

“It takes all of us,” Lydia said, sitting up and then tapping Derek’s jaw so he would look over at her. “We both came here on instinct, Derek. We came to you because you’re our Alpha and no matter what this pack has gone through, you’re our center.” She pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss and rubbed her thumb along his jaw. “We do trust you.”

Derek swallowed. “I guess we’ll see what happens.”

 

-.-

 

John knelt in the wet grass, flashlight trailing over the dead and mutilated body of one of the lacrosse players. He recognized him from the few games he went to when Stiles had made the team. He looked up at his partner and shook his head.

“We don’t catch a break much in this town, huh?” Deputy Parrish asked.

“No.” John got to his feet. “We really don’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd and Jackson try and figure out how to be pack mates, Erica tries not to stress out about her position in the pack (and fails), Lydia learns more about her banshee powers, and Stiles starts therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd as usual. Going to try and keep up 3-5k a week. Word count should come up as we go along.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Jackson shuts his physics textbook and rubbed his temples. He was tired, more tired than he’d been in awhile and he knew why he was. He’d been keeping his distance, his position in the pack more or less solidified so he didn’t _need_ to be around Derek as much, sucking up all his time and resources. The pack needed his attention, but he didn’t dare reach out, not when everyone was already so strained.

His phone buzzed on his desk and he snatched it up, desperate for a distraction. There was a text from Boyd, a warning that he’d be there in five minutes with no real reason or explanation of why. It made him nervous. He and Boyd had done their apologies and forgiving. It still didn’t change the past, it didn’t change the fact that Jackson had beat him for the sake of his cover with another pack. It was why Jackson, for the most part, did his best to avoid being alone with Boyd. He wanted to text back that he was busy. The wolf inside him mourns at the thought of spending another day and night alone.

In the end, he settled for packing his bag for tomorrow and opening the window so Boyd could avoid awkward small talk with his parents. He was just finished brushing his teeth when Boyd popped in. His backpack was slung over his shoulder and he was dressed in his old lacrosse sweats. Jackson leaned over to spit in the sink and then headed back into the bedroom.

"Spending the night?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah. You need to tell your parents?”

Jackson crooked one shoulder up in a half shrug. “Why me?”

He didn’t look at Boyd, moving to sit at his desk while Boyd tossed his bag in the corner and then stretched out on Jackson’s bed. Boyd stayed silent for a moment. Jackson wondered if he really wanted to know why Boyd had chosen him when he was much closer with everyone else.

“Because you’re why I can’t sleep at night,” Boyd said. “I forgive you. I don’t blame you for what happened. But I haven’t processed it yet and I don’t think I can or will until I stop avoiding you.”

Jackson’s heart felt like it was in his throat. He wanted to run because facing Boyd’s vulnerability was the most terrifying thing he’d ever been asked to do. He couldn’t run though. He knew he had to though. He owed it to himself, sure, but he owed it to Boyd even more; it wasn’t like he hadn’t had time to be selfish and heal on his own after all.

"What do you want me to do?” Jackson asked, his voice strained, the words almost catching in his throat. “What could I possibly do?”

Boyd sighed, loud in the heavy silence of the room. “Lay next to me?”

_And don’t hurt me._

It went unsaid, but Jackson heard it as loud as the spoken words. He got to his feet and turned off the main light before crossing the space to his bed and climbing carefully onto the bed on the opposite side of Boyd. They were both tense, not touching as they laid several inches apart. It was a trust exercise Jackson knew he would fail.

He closed his eyes and hoped for sleep.

 

-.-

 

The tension between Boyd and Jackson the next day made Erica’s hair stand on end. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t want to cause any sort of meltdown. Still, it was hard to sit still in every class and pay attention when there were things bigger than calculus homework bothering her and all of her packmates. It made her feel unstable. She’d come a long way since she’d first been turned, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still sensitive to the pain of her packmates.

“Chill, you’re going to break your pen,” Stiles said, reaching across the desk and holding her hand shut.

She took a deep breath and loosened her grip. Stiles let go and turned back to his own work, so her grateful look goes unnoticed.

She wanted to help. She hadn’t been able to help herself or Stiles, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to help Boyd and Jackson even if she tried. She wasn’t Lydia. She wasn’t Scott. She wasn’t-

“Fuck,” she hissed out underneath her breath.

It wouldn’t do her any good to think about it now. She glanced up at the clock, relief flowing through her when she realized she only needed to get through ten more minutes and she’d be free. She didn’t get anymore work done in that time. Instead, she focused on keeping herself calm and mapping out exactly what to do when the bell finally rung.

She was the first one out of the room when it did, snatching her bag from her locker and continuing on to Lydia’s. Shame sat in her gut as she did so. She always ran to Lydia when she needed help, like a child. It was humiliating.

“Are you studying with that one woman at Deaton’s?” Erica blurted out when Lydia turned to face her.

Lydia leaned against her locker to shut it fully. “Not right away. In a little over an hour actually, why?”

“Can I come?” Erica asked.

Lydia frowned and then tugged Erica down the hallway to the bathrooms. They’re empty but Lydia still threw the lock on the main door to ensure privacy. “What’s wrong?”

Erica swallowed. “Boyd and Jackson. There’s something wrong with them and I don’t know how to help and I _never_ know how to help because I’m…”

“Erica, Jesus,” Lydia said, but she didn’t sound frustrated. “It’s okay. You’re not supposed to be able to fix all their problems, no one expects that from a friend.”

Erica took a deep breath in an attempt to stop herself from making some sort of embarrassing noise. “They expect it from you…”

“No they don’t,” Lydia said. “People go to their friends for help when they need it, but no one expects me or you to fix everything for them. Honestly, this sounds like something Boyd and Jackson need to sort on their own. I’m sure Boyd will come to you if he has something he needs and outside perspective on and I _know_ you, Erica. You’re his best friend for a reason. Just trust yourself as much as he trusts you.”

"This is what I mean though,” Erica said. “You know the perfect thing to say.”

Lydia grabbed Erica’s hands in her own and squeezed. “Because I know you. And you know Boyd. When the time comes, you’ll say the right thing because you’ll know what he needs to hear.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“We all make mistakes. I say the wrong things all the time,” Lydia said. “I’m not as perfect as you think I am, and you know that.”

Erica pulled her hands back. “I just…wish I could have the confidence you do. The real confidence, not the fake shit I let everyone else see.”

“I can’t tell you know to do that. You’ve had a hard time with everything lately, so it’s okay to feel off center and unmoored. You’ll find it again,” Lydia said. “Just don’t try to rush it. I’ve done that before, and it didn’t help.”

“I’m so tired of this,” Erica said, voice quiet as the last of the panic drained out of her.

“I know.” Lydia pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

 

-.-

 

“There was another dead body found in the woods,” Stiles said. He kept his gaze down at his lap, not wanting to look across the desk to see Jennifer’s reaction. “It was ritualistic. My dad let me see the pictures of it and he’s giving copies to Derek and Chris because it’s probably, you know, supernatural.”

“Should you really be seeing those images though?” Jennifer asked.

Silence stretched between them as Stiles mulled over the question.

“I don’t know. It’s not like, traumatizing to see, or whatever,” Stiles said with a shrug. “That’s not…” He took a deep breath and let it out in a loud stream. “That’s not what’s upsetting about it?”

“Then what is?” Jennifer asked.

Stiles looked up at her, hands twisting together as he thought. “It just means it’s happening again. Something is here and it’s going to try and do something horrible and we’re going to have to stop it again.”

“You don’t have to though,” Jennifer said.

Stiles knew she wanted to look him in the eyes but he bowed his head again. It was one thing to say it, put his fears out into the empty space between them. It was harder to make a connection alongside it.

"From what you’ve said, your pack cares about you. They would understand if you wanted to stay out of it this time,” Jennifer said. “A lot of packs work that way, some of them backing out from a role of active protection temporarily while they heal.”

“We’re not exactly a normal pack,” Stiles said. “And I can’t ever be comfortable with…not being involved.”

"Why not?” Jennifer asked. “They’re more durable than you, they’re physically capable of more. Why do you feel like you have to be involved?”

It felt like hitting a brick wall, the answer to the question rattling around in his brain even as he avoided it, recoiling away. He knew why, he knew the words to say, but even thinking about it made his heart start to race. Stiles kept his head down and listened to the ticking of the clock.

 

-.-

 

“This is bad,” Chris said as he flipped through the photos.

John shifted on the couch opposite of Chris. “I figured. I was hoping maybe you’d know what the marks were so maybe we know what we’re dealing with.”

“They’re old symbols used during the rituals of power druids used to do,” Chris said, setting the photos of the mutilated body back on the coffee table. “Druids were, or rather _are_ , people who have a deep connection with the world and can use its energy after performing certain rituals. Druids usually use rocks, gems, minerals, things like that. Darachs, or dark Druids, use…this, ritualistic murder.”

“Are you _sure_ that’s what this is?” John asks.

“I mean, it could just be a serial killer inspired by old, European mythology,” Chris said. He wanted to give John an easy solution, something normal to explain the brutal marks away. “But this is Beacon Hills. We’re probably dealing with a Darach, which is hard because they look human and are in total control of themselves because…they are human. For the most part.”

“Great,” John said, picking the photos up and shoving them back in the envelope he’d delivered them in.

“Be careful,” Chris said. “A Darach will know you’re on to them, but Derek and I can look into this.”

“I have the FBI breathing down my neck. I have to at least look like I’m taking the investigation seriously,” John said.

“Still. If you notice something or think you’re being watched, don’t hesitate to reach out to us,” Chris said. “Or ask us questions.”

“Right…sometimes I think I should just take Stiles and leave all of this behind,” John said, bowing his head. “This place is never going to be safe no matter what any of us do.”

“If we don’t, even more people will die,” Chris said. It felt a bit like he was trying to guilt him, but he meant what he said.

“I don’t do much to protect this place. Why do you think I was getting investigated in the first place?” John asked, the frustration clear in his voice.

“This town is better because of you,” Chris said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You know, I don’t really care anymore, if I’ve helped people and saved lives. Not when Stiles is ruined because of it,” John said.

"He’s not ruined,” Chris said, choosing his words as careful as he can. “He’s getting better.”

“You don’t have to hear him scream himself awake from down the hall every night.”

Chris wasn’t sure he could say anything to make that better.

 

-.-

 

Lydia sat down across from Jennifer like she had yesterday. Erica sat on the other side of the room from the both of them, mirroring their positions and following along with Jennifer’s breathing exercises. Lydia didn’t let herself sink as deeply as she had before, determined to keep her wits about her.

“Because Erica is here I thought we’d try something that should come more naturally to you,” Jennifer said. “You’ve both felt the pack bond between yourselves, correct?”

“Yes,” Lydia said. “We’re both more sensitive to it than anyone else in the pack, but we’ve never tried to…explain it or articulate what it feels like.”

“This will help you with that,” Jennifer said. “You’ll be able to feel it, Erica, but Lydia will be able to see it too because she’s a banshee. Now, sync your breathing together and Lydia, I want you to reach for the bond.”

Lydia bit back a snide remark and focused on the sound of Erica’s breathing and syncing it. It felt like something clicked into place. Maybe it was because she was actually forcing herself to be aware of her body and its connections. She could feel Erica’s presence, her energy, pressing up against her in a real physical way, an amplified version of the traces of the bond she had felt before.

“Lydia, you’re going to open your eyes now, but keep a hold of that bond, you don’t want to lose it,” Jennifer said.

Lydia inhaled slowly, and she felt Erica do the same and instinctively she drew on the energy Erica offered to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, she was glad she did. It took all of her energy to keep holding onto the bond when she saw it before her, a brilliant golden chain that spanned across the room to link her and Erica together. She reached out, unable to stop her own gasp as her hand passed through it.

“Do you see this too?” she asked, looking over at Jennifer.

Jennifer smiled. “Yes. Beautiful isn’t it?”

Lydia nodded and closed her eyes for a moment to take in the feeling. When she opened them again, Jennifer was surrounded in a rust-colored glow, her own chains stretching in every direction of the room and disappearing out of sight. She wanted to ask but she kept it to herself, holding the knowledge close. Lydia took another breath and removed herself carefully from the bond. It gave her a weird feeling of whiplash as the glow and energy winked out of sight, as if the clarity of the world had suddenly been muffled.

“Wow,” Erica said, hand reaching up to press against her chest. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“Me neither,” Lydia said. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing this.”

“It can be addicting,” Jennifer said. “That bond you have with Erica, with your pack, is similar to the bond you share with all your sisters. With me. You just have to learn how to access it. Once you do that, you’ll be able to understand the voices of Electra’s journal and you’ll be able to process the memories she’s left imprinted inside.’

“This…is cool,” Lydia said, a giddy laugh escaping her.

Jennifer smiled at her again. “Yeah, we should probably stop here. You should practice your awareness of your pack bonds tonight though, so the next time we work together we can test your awareness of the banshee power.”

"Thank you,” Lydia said, and she meant it even with her deep suspicion. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

 

-.-

 

Isaac hesitated outside the front door of the Hale house. He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped considering it to be his own house, but it made his chest ache. He opened the door and took the stairs up two at a time, pausing a moment to track Derek’s scent to the master bedroom. After giving a quick knock, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, forcing his anxiety down so he didn’t change his mind.

Derek looked up from his desk, leaning back in his chair to look at him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I _do_ live here, I’m not a guest,” Isaac said.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Isaac clenched his jaw tight. “Right, I’ll just be in my room.”

Derek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking at Isaac again. “I’m sorry, don’t…can you stay, please? We should probably talk.”

“Yeah…”

Isaac felt out of sync with his body ash e stepped further into the room and let the door swing shut behind him. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him as he sat down on the edge of the bed and it made him want to run away and not deal with the awkward tension between them. He watched Derek hesitate as well before he finally stood and joined him. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in silence. Isaac took a deep breath and let himself slump into Derek’s side, relief flowing through him when Derek put an arm around his shoulders to hold him close.

The feeling made him want to cry.

He’d missed the feeling of being taken care of. He’d missed it when his father became a monster, but Derek had fixed that, had given him a safe home and protected him. And somewhere along the line, he’d lost it again. Having something so simple as being held made him long to have the feeling of unquestioning safety again.

“Where did we go wrong? I don’t remember it happening,” Derek said.

"It didn’t really happen all at once. I guess I just…started feeling like I was a tool to you, like I was just there to follow your orders and help everyone else in the pack,” Isaac said. “Felt like you stopped seeing me as…me.”

“Fuck,” Derek said. “I…that’s not what I meant to do.”

Isaac closed his eyes and pulled away, opting to lean forward on his knees and rub at his temples. “So what were you _trying_ to do then?”

“I was being selfish,” Derek said. “I…don’t know what I’m doing a lot of the time and it was eaiser to pass it off to you because I trust you more than anyone.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Isaac said.

“I know. It’s…what I was thinking though,” Derek said. “So, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Alpha again. I can handle some things but at the end of the day, I want to come home to my Alpha,” Isaac said.

“I’ll try.”

 

-.-

 

Boyd came over again. Jackson laid down beside him in the bed and together they stared up at the ceiling in silence, tense and not touching as their thoughts filled the space between them. He wondered what Boyd was thinking. Boyd had always come off as the most unreadable of the group, though sometimes Jackson got glimpses of who he really was when he saw him from a distance with Erica, Lydia, or Isaac.

"Is this really doing anything for us?” Jackson asked. “How does this help?”

“I don’t know,” Boyd said, his voice sounding strained.

“I could…”

Jackson moved slowly, making sure Boyd could push him away if he wanted, curling into his side. It was a weird position. It felt awkward, both of them just as tense as they had been before Jackson had bothered to move, but he shifted around anyways, trying to find a comfortable position and then settling with his head on Boyd’s broad chest and his arm looped around his hip. Boyd brought his arm up to hold him around his shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck.

“This is super fucking weird,” Boyd said.

“Definitely,” Jackson said.

“Can you relax a bit? I can handle your weight,” Boyd said.

Jackson took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as he let it out. It made it a little more comfortable. “Maybe if we do this enough it’ll feel normal. Maybe if we do it I won’t seem…”

Boyd squeezed the back of his neck and then held him a little closer. “I don’t blame you for what happened, but it still happened and it still hurt. I just have to learn to trust you again, and maybe you need to learn how to trust yourself too, otherwise you’ll never be able to really be close with any of us.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Jackson said, voice quieter. “Whatever can make it better for you, I’ll do it.”

“That won’t help,” Boyd said. “I appreciate the sentiment but you can’t just let people make demands of you and let someone have that control over you, even if it is a packmate. It’s about trusting each other, not ruling over one another.”

“Guess I never figured out how to do that,” Jackson said.

“If it helps, neither did I,” Boyd said.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Jackson hoped he was right. He wanted this to feel natural. He wanted Boyd to feel like his packmate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott learns about True Alphas, Boyd and Stiles have a conversation, and Lydia uses her banshee powers for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Scott went to Deaton on his own. He knew it would be best to go with Derek or Lydia, but the conversation felt too personal and it wasn’t like Lydia had any reason to trust Deaton at the moment. Scott didn’t want her experience to shadow his own. Besides, he had a feeling Deaton had a soft spot for him. Deaton had always been a mentor to him, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to decide to hold something that would help. Then again, he had before. He’d always known more than he’d let on, Scott knew that. Scott didn’t think he’d hold back now.

Deaton seemed surprised to see him there and Scott couldn’t help the guilt it made him feel. After all, he’d never formally quit his job. Deaton had just accepted that he was too busy in silence, understanding of the reality Scott and the pack were faced with.

“Uh, hi,” Scott said.

"Is this a conversation for the lobby or should we head to the back?” Deaton asked.

"Probably the back,” Scott said.

Deaton held open the mountain ash infused door and they headed for the backroom. Scott stayed by the door on one side of the bulky metal table as Deaton moved to the other. It felt awkward. He’d relied to some degree on Deaton as a father figure even before everything, before the bite.

It didn’t feel like that now.

“My eyes turned orange a while back,” Scott said. “Like, Derek and I sort of submitted to each other as a show to trust and that’s when they first changed. Last night though, when I was yelling at my dad, they turned red.”

Deaton frowned, folding his arms across his chest as he thought. “I’ve never heard of someone’s eyes turning orange before, though there is an explanation for why the could turn red. I’m just not sure if they’re related in your case.”

“So what could it be?” Scott asked.

“There’s a type of werewolf called a True Alpha. They’re very rare, and they can manifest in either a born or a bitten werewolf,” Deaton said. “If I were to make a guess, I would say you have the potential to become one. It requires a strength of character for a person to ascend from Beta to Alpha without killing an Alpha. The person who accomplishes that is what a True Alpha is.”

Scott let the words roll around in his head. “So…I could become an Alpha?”

“If it weren’t for the weird make up of the Hale Pack, you probably already would have,” Deaton said.

"We are getting better,” Scott said, unable to help the defensive note in his voice. “The stuff with the Casia Pack just threw us off.”

“That’s…not what I meant,” Deaton said. “I mean your back does not operate with the normal hierarchy of a proper pack. Your submitting to Derek and he to you likely got you part way to your full potential but it also stifled you and set you back. I imagine as your pack shifts its dynamics around, there’s a chance you could become a True Alpha.”

"Why wouldn’t Derek mention it?” Scott asked, dragging a stool over to the table so he can sit.

"I imagine he didn’t know,” Deaton said. “You have to understand, Derek’s family, his _pack_ , died before he had a chance to really learn everything and it’s likely he never had a personality meant for being an Alpha.”

Scott frowned. “Are you saying I should be the Alpha?”

“If the circumstances were different,” Deaton said with a shrug. “If it were a pack of werewolves, sure, but the pack has never functioned with only one leader since you came together. Just from what I’ve seen, you, Lydia, and Derek all wield a similar amount of authority without stepping on one another’s toes. I’ll admit, I’ve never seen such a type of leadership.”

“So what do I do?” Scott asked, unable to look across the table to meet Deaton’s eyes.

“How you sort it out as a pack is up to you. I cannot provide guidance here, Scott, I just don’t have a clear answer for you,” Deaton said. “But the changes to your own body aren’t something you need to be afraid of. All it means is the wolf inside you knows you could be a good leader and wants to give you that strength.”

“Doesn’t make me feel all that better honestly,” Scott said. He looked up again and offered a sheepish smile which Deaton returned. “I’m just used to you knowing all the answers to my questions.”

“I think it’s a sign that you’re becoming an adult,” Deaton said.

“I don’t feel like it,” Scott said. “Even after everything I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing.”

"Being an adult doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” Deaton said. “It means that you work through your questions with other adults instead of someone having all the answers.”

"That’s not very comforting either,” Scott said.

Deaton shrugged. “Maybe not. But you have your pack. You have Derek and Lydia and I know you quite well now Scott. I have faith that you’ll figure it out.”

Scott wished he felt as optimistic.

 

-.-

 

"Erica!”

Boyd’s seven-year-old sister Alicia early made Erica fall over as she launched herself at her. Erica struggled to get the squirming child balanced on her hip but smiled as Alicia started chattering in her ear about school. Boyd watched from the couch, a smile on his face that looked genuine for the first time in awhile. It made her heart flip, made her think they were on the right track even though they hadn’t talked yet.

“I’ve counted, you haven’t been here for nine days,” Alicia said as Erica set her on the couch and sat next to her. “Stacy misses you too but she’s older so she won’t say it.” 

“Stacy’s at gymnastics,” Boyd said before Erica could ask. “Mom will be here soon to take Alicia with her to groceries.”

"You know, it’s good you told me that you missed me,” Erica said, tugging at Alicia’s braids to get her attention. “Other wise I wouldn’t know to come around more.”

“Mom says Stacy’s just being a moody pre-teen,” Alicia said.

“I’m just a moody _full_ -teen,” Erica said.

"You don’t whine like Stacy does,” Alicia said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “I need to watch my show before Mom gets back.”

“Oh, okay.” Erica shared a smile with Boyd over Alicia’s head.

Alicia settled into Erica’s side and they watch some random Disney show punctuated by Alicia’s laughs and giggles. It was normal, mundane. Erica had missed Boyd’s family in the time she’d felt too frayed to be around them. But being back in a place that felt like a home brought back some sense of normalcy to her life, even though she was still worried about Boyd and Jackson’s awkward tension.

When she heard Boyd’s mom’s car heading down the street, she excused herself to the bathroom. She liked Boyd’s family, but the fake politeness that came with interacting with parents always bothered so she did her best to avoid interactions with them. She waited to hear his mom depart with Alicia before emerging. Boyd was waiting outside the door.

“You know, my parents know you avoid them,” he said. “And I swear they’re not that bad.”

“I know,” Erica said. “But I don’t want to talk about that.”

Boyd let Erica drag him down towards his bedroom. She watched as he avoid the bed, a sinking feeling expanding in her gut as he chose to sit on the floor. She stretched out on the bed and let her fingers drop down to trail over his shoulders. The relaxed air from before is long gone.

“I’ve been having nightmares for awhile,” he said.

Erica did her best not to react to the words. She knew how much Boyd struggled to talk, at least about how he felt, especially since usually _he_ was the one helping her. It wasn’t their normal dynamic. She wished she hadn’t let it get that way, hadn’t let it become so engrained that they struggled with anything outside of it.

“What about?”

“About Jackson. What he did.”

Erica closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself in control. “Is that why you’ve been trying to hang around him? It’s not like you two have ever been friends before so I was curious.”

"Yeah. It’s weird,” Boyd said. “But I need to do it, we both do. I’m…scared of him, and he’s my packmate and that…we can’t function like that. _I_ can’t function like that.”

“Can I help? Is there anything I can do?” Erica asked.

Boyd reached up to still her fingers and wrap around hers. “You’re here. You’re my best friend, and if I were to put a label on it, you’re my girlfriend. You’re already doing everything I Need. You let me bounce ideas off you and it’s easy because being vulnerable with you is just...it feels natural. I guess. You’ve always helped me.”

"I feel like I haven’t,” she said. “But I guess when you put it that way, I suppose I have.” She squeezed his hand. “You know, you might want to talk to Stiles. I think there’s a lot you have in common, at least in how you feel now.”

“Maybe. I haven’t thought about that,” Boyd said. “I was so concerned about helping you and Stiles, I never realized that maybe we had something in common.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Boyd got to his feet and climbed up onto the bed beside her. “It feels good to help, like it’s my place in the pack to be the steady one people rely on even if I’m not leading.”

Erica cupped his cheek in her hand. “You like being needed.”

“I think we all do, I’m just a little better at admitting it,” Boyd said.

“I don’t know where I belong in the pack,” she said. “I’m not steady like you, or strong like Derek, or a leader like Lydia or Scott.”

“You help though. You’re easy to open up to,” Boyd said. “Why do you think we all come to you when we need to talk about stuff?”

“I guess I didn’t think about it like that,” Erica said. She dropped her hand to rest against his hip.

“Everyone’s got their place. You don’t have to try and fit in anyone else’s,” Boyd said.

She leaned forward and kissed him. Discussion ended pretty quickly after that.

 

-.-

 

Lydia had seen Stiles spar before, had seen him fight for his life, but it was still surreal to watch him and Allison fight and reconcile it with her old image of him. The look in his eyes as he ducked and weaved was hard, cold even. The contrast was stark in comparison to the passion and light in every look she managed to catch when she looked at Allison. It bothered her to see, and bothered her at a different level that Allison could understand where Stiles was. She couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed as a friend, that she could’ve done more when Allison had lost her aunt, her mother, and even her grandfather despite what he’d done.

She shook the thoughts away and took a deep breath. She walked herself through Jennifer’s breathing exercises, sinking herself down into her pack bonds and latching onto them before raising her gaze from her lap. The bond connecting her to Allison was deep gold. She focused a little harder and more bonds bloomed out of Allison, mostly golds but a few oranges. There was a rust colored one too, linking her and Stiles together and Lydia sucked in a tight breath when she realized every chain leaving Stiles’ body was the same color. It certainly confirmed her belief that _something_ was off with Jennifer’s bonds. It wasn’t like Stiles had a healthy dynamic after all.

The wavering in her concentration made the bonds wink out of sight again. She could say something. She could talk about it and bring her concerns to them, but she didn’t. There was a feeling settled in her, just like it was with Electra’s journal.

The feeling that it was still too soon.

 

-.-

 

Boyd spent another night at Jackson’s. It still didn’t feel safe being curled up beside one another, but Boyd knew it wasn’t a quick fix. He had to relearn how to feel safe again. He just wished it was easier.

 

-.-

 

Danny tried to still his leg from bouncing up and down as he waited in the hallway outside Jennifer’s office. He couldn’t help his nerves though. He’d never done something like this before. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of it and he didn’t see getting therapy as a weakness. He just wasn’t sure what he was doing. He didn’t have a chance to debate it in his head much longer because the next moment, the door swung open and Jennifer was smiling down at him.

"Ready?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said, but he smiled at her anyways.

“No one really is,” she said, holding the door open for him.

Her office was rather plain, but then Danny knew she hadn’t had time to settle in. It still made the place feel stale though, clinical to a harsh degree. He sat down in the seat closest to the door, watching as Jennifer paused at her desk long enough to grab her notepad before taking the seat across from him.

"So. Are we talking about the pack or is it something more personal?” she asked.

Danny hadn’t really been expecting her to dive right in so it took him a moment to readjust.

“I guess…the pack. I was pretty well-adjusted before them, not that I resent them, they’re my friends,” Danny said. “I don’t really have any friends outside of them.”

“Did you before you realized who they were?” Jennifer asked.

Danny shrugged. “I guess so. But after everything I’ve been through with Stiles and Jackson, I guess…other friendships feel fake. They lack…something.”

Jennifer leaned forward on her knees. “What you’re feeling, Danny, isn’t uncommon. All packs have humans in them, and one of the hardest struggles they are confronted with is existing in the ‘normal’ world. The normal world always feels pale in comparison to the closeness, the _intimacy_ , that makes up a pack. It’s not a struggle your supernatural packmates can understand. They can’t.”

Her words felt wrong. He supposed the logic was right, but he knew Jackson well and he saw him struggle with the same issue. Then again, perhaps because he _was_ supernatural, Jackson seemed okay with choosing the pack over the rest of the world, especially now. But that didn’t mean Danny was entirely alone.

"Maybe we’re not a normal pack then. I mean, they’re all bitten wolves, outside of Derek anyways, so they all struggle with figuring out where they belong,” Danny said. “How to live their normal lives and their pack lives I mean.”

“The Hale Pack is far from a normal structure, you’re right, but there is still a difference between your experience and theirs. They can’t leave. You, Danny, have the option to leave and that’s what makes your struggle different,” Jennifer said. “That isn’t a bad thing. I’m just wondering if you’ve considered it.”

“I mean…that’s kind of why I’m here,” Danny said. “You’re right in that way I guess.”

“I think that’s a good goal for us then. We should work through where you think you fit best, so when you do decide what to do, you have a solid foundation to stand on,” Jennifer said.

Danny felt his chest tighten at the words and he ducked his head. ‘Yeah, I think that’s what I want out of this.”

"It’s hard being in this position, Danny,” Jennifer said, her voice soft. “Sometimes it can feel like you’d give anything to be normal again or at least feel that way.”

“Yeah. I would, you know? I love my friends, I do, but I’m so tired of feeling so torn between my safety and theirs.” Danny took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the harsh stinging in them. “I’d give anything to feel better again, feel like me again.”

“You will, Danny,” Jennifer said. “You’ll get there.”

 

-.-

 

Lydia arrived at Deaton’s before Jennifer. She wanted to ignore Deaton and head down to the basement, but there were too many questions burning in her chest. So instead she stalked her way through the entrance and slammed her hands on the office counter. Deaton raised a patronizing eyebrow.

"Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me about Jennifer?”

"We were busy,” Deaton said.

“How long did you know what I was before my powers fully manifested?” She backed up and folded her arms across her chest.

“I suspected after Peter bit you,” Deaton said.

“So why keep it a secret?” she asked. “Does being the weird, enigmatic guy get you off or something?”

“I’m not sure where all this is coming from,” Deaton said.

“I don’t know how the hell we’re suppressed to trust you because it feels like you’re playing some sort of a long game that none of us know about,” Lydia said. “You withhold information until it’s good for you. You always have!”

“Lydia, there is no long game,” Deaton said, voice overly patient. “There is nothing I gain from that. It’s simply a matter of it never being the right time to call Jennifer in.”

“Do you know how long she’s been alive?” Lydia asked.

“Yes,” Deaton said.

“And you knew I’d live just as long.”

"Yes, I did.”

“And it never crossed your mind to maybe tell me that?” she asked.

Deaton sighed. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I haven’t been an emissary in a long time.”

“All you’ve got is excuses,” Lydia said. “That’s all you’ve ever had for us.”

“Maybe I can regain your trust,” Deaton said. “I didn’t mean to lose it in the first place.”

“Then maybe stop keeping secrets,” she said, pushing her way through the door to head down the hallway.

“You keep them too, Lydia,” Deaton called after her.

Lydia slammed the door on her way downstairs.

 

-.-

 

"This is weird,” Stiles said.

“A little bit, yeah,” Boyd agreed.

He’d taken Erica’s advice, shooting Stiles a text on his way over to ask if they could hang out. Stiles had agreed but…they weren’t exactly close. Boyd had never been that great at emotional intimacy and Stiles was more guarded than ever.

"Are you going to like, help me or something?” Stiles asked, shifting on the couch to face Boyd head on.

“Not really. More I want you to help me,” Boyd said. “I know I can’t help you, I tried that.”

Stiles barked out a laugh and then flopped back against the couch. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I mean it,” Stiles said. “everyone treats me like I’m breakable, except for Allison anyways. It’s nice to hear someone being blunt with me again.”

“Then you’re welcome,” Boyd said, some of the tension leaving him. He took a moment to get up his courage before continuing. “I kind of have the opposite problem.”

“Yeah?” Stiles stretched out on the couch, propping his feet up in Boyd’s lap.

Boyd rested his hands on Stiles’ shins. “I’m way more breakable than people think I am.”

“Well Jackson did beat the shit out of you,” Stiles said. “Probably hard to be a tough guy after that, yeah? Your whole base is thrown off.”

“That was insightful,” Boyd said.

“I try,” Stiles said, lips twisting into a half smile. “I’ve always been good at putting shit together, which sounds like bragging but whatever.”

“No, it’s not,” Boyd said. “It’s what you’re good at.” He tapped his thumb against Stiles’ shin. “So what’ve you picked up about me?”

“You’re the guy we all rely on which is usually okay, but what happened to you? What Jackson did to you? That threw off because it was the first time you’ve ever been in a situation entirely outside of your control,” Stiles said. He propped himself up on his elbows to look Boyd in the eye. “Was I close?”

"Pretty spot on,” Boyd said, voice quieter. It was almost eerie how Stiles had picked it apart so neatly.

“Well, we’re not all that different, even if our friends see us as opposites now.”

Boyd looked back at him but Stiles had stretched back out, arm drooped over his eyes. “I guess we aren’t.”

 

-.-

 

Lydia’s gaze flicked between the objects Jennifer had placed in front of her. She could hear them murmuring to her, quieter than the journal had been when it was still in her possession. She still wasn’t sure who had it now. Derek had done a good job of that.

“Let’s start with the vase,” Lydia said. “I think that one’s the loudest.”

“Your awareness is growing faster than I expected,” Jennifer said as she passed the simple, glass vase over. “It belonged to a banshee in Wales. The rest you’ll find out on your own.”

Lydia cradled the vase in her lap, keeping her touch gentle as she let herself sink down into her powers. She could feel the threads of her pack, but she pushed deeper. The flood of power, the rush of energy, made her feel faint but she did her best to stay focused, narrowing in on the ball of energy she knew was in her lap. It was like getting sucked in, the murmuring voices rising in a cacophony until-

           

 

_Gwen knelt to stop the ball from rolling away any further across the plaza. She picked it up and tossed it carefully to the child running towards her. He caught it and then raced back across the plaza towards his parents. There was a dull ache in her chest, the longing for her own family striking her so hard she nearly stumbled up the steps on her way out of the plaza._

_She’d thought she was over it. After a century, she’d thought maybe outliving them would hurt less, but it didn’t. She turned her gaze to the nearby church. The red brick made it seem as though it were on fire in the glow of the setting sun. She wondered if she could start over, have another family. She wondered if maybe it were best to just end it all._

 

Lydia tossed the vase away from her as she jolted back into her body. Jennifer caught it and placed it on the floor, a frown on her face as Lydia started to swipe at the tears that had welled up in her eyes out of nowhere. Jennifer knee-walked over to her and all the suspicion in the world didn’t stop Lydia from seeking out the comfort offered.

Gwen’s emotions had been so powerful. Lydia could still feel it, the loneliness and the loss etching itself into her bones and pulsing through her in waves. It was too much. She couldn’t remember ever feeling something so powerful herself.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jennifer said, holding Lydia close and wiping away her tears. “It’s a lot to process.”

“Why…why would you show me that?” Lydia asked, voice breathless.

“Because it’s important to know what can come if you aren’t careful or prepared,” Jennifer said. “I know it’s hard Lydia, but you need to become accustomed to the burden all banshees share.”

“I never want to feel that way,” Lydia said, clinging to Jennifer’s arm.

“I know.” Jennifer held her a little closer. “No one does.”

 

-.-

 

Boyd crawled through Jackson’s window at the same time he had the last few nights. Jackson was already in bed with the lights off but Boyd could tell he was still wide awake so he didn’t hesitate to take his own position on the opposite side of the bed. Jackson rolled onto his back.

“Feel better yet?” Jackson asked.

“Not really, but I think I know what my issue is,” Boyd said, forcing the words out of his chest and fighting passed his instinctual need to stay quiet. “Roll onto your side? Away from me.”

Jackson sighed and did so. Boyd stared at his exposed back for a long moment, taking in the display of vulnerability and letting himself process that _he_ was in control again. He shifted across the bed, tucking himself up along the line of Jackson’s body. Jackson sighed again, less frustrated than before and leaned back into Boyd’s grip without any sort of hesitation. He trusted Boyd.

“Better?” Jackson asked.

Boyd pressed his face to the back of Jackson’s neck. “Yeah.”

 

-.-

 

“There was another one,” Parrish said, dropping a file on John’s desk.

John leaned back in his chair and opened the folder, flicking through the pictures. The markings on the new body were identical to the ones on the first body.

“This is a serial killer, right? It has to be,” Parrish said.

“Looks like it might be.”

John didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what sort of lie he could say that would sound even a bit truthful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Isaac start to fix their relationship with Erica's help, Stiles starts to put the pieces together, and Lydia manages to use her powers properly for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd or edited.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Scott struggled not to fall asleep as Lydia ran her fingers through his hair. They were in the living room of the Hale House on the couch, Scott’s head in Lydia’s lap. He could tell there was something on her mind, that there had been since her last meeting with Jennifer a few days ago, but to his knowledge, she hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. The urge to say something burned in him, but despite Deaton’s claim that he was a natural born leader, Scott didn’t even know what to say.

So he said nothing. Derek and Isaac would be home soon so they could all talk anyways. In Scott’s mind, Derek had always been better at guiding a conversation, even if he was insecure in his role of leadership. Lydia tugged at his ear and Scott rolled onto his back to look up at her.

“You know, you’re the only one that has an untainted bond with everyone,” Lydia said, fingers pushing his hair up off his forehead. “I’ve been looking at everyone, now that I have the power to do so.”

“What do you mean untainted?” he asked.

“The good bonds, the healthy ones, are gold,” Lydia said. Her eyes looked sad and Scott couldn’t help but reach up to hold her hand and draw it down to his chest. “All of Stiles’ except the one that connects him to you is the color of rust.”

Scott frowned. “So you’re saying Stiles and I have a _healthy_ bond.”

“Maybe not healthy but…deep. Solid,” Lydia said. “No matter what you’re going through, the two of you always deeply care about each other. It’s unshakable, or at least it looks that way.”

“I guess that’s comforting,” Scott said. “I feel like I’ve let him down.”

“Maybe we should try and talk to each other more,” Lydia said. “I mean…the therapy _seems_ to be helping, plus the whole sparring with Allison again. Maybe it’s enough to make it easier to talk.”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Scott said. “Is there any reason you sound so sad about it? The bonds I mean.”

“We should probably wait for Derek to get back. It’s kind of big,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ll want to repeat it again.”

"That sounds ominous,” Scott said, linking their fingers together. “I wonder when it will stop.”

“When what will?” she asked.

“This. All the complicated shit,” Scott said.

“Probably never.”

Scott didn’t get a chance to say anything because then the front door opened and Derek and Isaac walked in, arms full of grocery bags. He sat up, still holding onto Lydia’s hand.

“Just gotta put these away,” Isaac called.

Scott looked over at them, meeting Derek’s eyes for a moment before ducking his head, unable to hold it. It was hard to think Deaton was right about his natural leadership skills. Derek was far from perfect, but he seemed much more put together, much more in control, than Scott could ever be. And maybe part of him would rather have someone else in control. He had spent most of his life being responsible for everything, and the first two years of being a werewolf, he’d become responsible for his friends lives.

He wasn’t sure he wanted that control back.

"Hey,” Derek said, sitting down next to Scott.

Isaac’s legs folded beneath him as he took a seat on the ground between Scott’s feet. Scott dropped his hands to Isaac’s hair, rubbing at his head until Isaac relaxed fully against him, head on Scott’s knee.

“I think Scott should go first,” Lydia said and Scott couldn’t help but shoot her a curious look. He knew she had a lot to say so seeing her put it off again made him worry.

“I talked to Deaton about my eyes,” Scott said. “He said I have the potential to become a True Alpha, which means becoming an Alpha without killing another one. That’s what makes it ‘true’ I guess, like I have the natural ability to be an Alpha and ascend on my own, except I haven’t because I’m still deferring to you.”

Scott took a deep breath once the words were out, already feeling as if he’d been relieved of the burden. He’d spread it out so all of them could bear it.

"That makes a lot of sense,” Derek said. “Isaac and I have been talking and it’s become pretty obvious I’m not a natural leader. Maybe if I was, it wouldn’t be an issue for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Scott said. “We’re just…not a normal pack, and honestly, I don’t want to be an Alpha. I’m trying to be as normal as possible.”

"We’re not a normal pack, so why do we need a normal leadership?” Isaac asked, turning to look up at Derek and then Scott. “When things got bad for me and Derek, I came to _you_. Why can’t we have two Alphas? You two complement each other naturally without even trying so it’d be even better if you did it on purpose. Led together I mean.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lydia said. “I can see the pack bonds now, and where Derek’s bonds are weak, yours are strong and vice versa.”

"What if I fall though?” Derek asked. “I can lose my status. If Scott takes more control, there’s a chance I might fall to the status of a Beta on my own.”

“Which is the last thing I want. I don’t want…I _can’t_ lead on my own,” Scott said, finally bringing himself to meet Derek’s eyes.

Derek looked just as scared as he felt. “I can’t either.”

“Maybe you need each other then,” Isaac said. “Think about it. You gave me more to do when the pressure was too much and you didn’t fall to a Beta. If you and Scott work together, you’d share the burden and you’d be better leaders because of it. It’s better than what we’re doing now and you both know it.”

Scott took a deep breath, fingers carding through Isaac’s hair. “You’re way more mature than me.”

"I grew up pretty fast,” Isaac said, a bitter smile twisting his lips.

Scott knew the feeling. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”

"Isaac’s right though. It can’t be worse than what we’re doing,” Derek said. He looked passed Scott to look at Lydia. “So what about you?”

Lydia squirmed where she sat on the other side of Scott. “I…I’ve been practicing my banshee powers with Jennifer and I’ve learned from her some things that are I guess…uncomfortable.”

Scott tightened his hand around hers but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Isaac got to his feet and wiggled his way into the space beside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders. She slumped back against him but she didn’t look anymore relaxed.

"So,” she began, eyes staring down at her lap. “The stronger my powers grow, the longer I’ll live. Basically, I’m going to outlive all of you and…”

Her voice broke, hot tears splashing on her and Scott’s clasped hands. Isaac made a low noise deep in his throat and she turned her face into his neck as she began to shake. Scott’s heart beat faster, her words rattling around in his head as he tried to process what she meant, what it meant for all of them, but it was too much.

"Can you stop?” Derek asked. “Can you stop training, stop getting stronger?”

Lydia took a deep breath, a wet and shuddering sound. “I have to learn to control it. I can’t keep showing up when someone is already dead, and I have to…I can’t _deny_ what I am. Who knows what could happen?”

“But…you’ll be _alone_ ,” Scott said. The thought even on its own made his heart ache. He couldn’t even imagine the loneliness.

“I know, I know,” Lydia said, sitting up and wiping her tears away. “But I…I have to be stronger, for all of you, for this town. I need to be.”

Scott stared at her. “I know you care about us Lydia, but you can’t sacrifice your happiness for us.”

“No, I have to, I know there’s…there’s something big coming. If I’m not strong enough to help then…” She shook her head, wiping at her eyes again. “I have to.”

“What are you hiding?” Derek asked, voice hard.

Lydia’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You know something. What’s coming that has you so worried?” Derek asked.

“Scott’s instinct was to tell Derek to lay off but when he looked at Lydia again, she avoided their gaze. “Lydia?”

“I…there’s something wrong with Jennifer. I don’t know what it is but I need to get all I can from her, especially since it’s not just her, it’s whatever is in that journal,” she said.

“She’s working with Stiles and Danny,” Scott said, a thread of anger entering his voice. “Why wouldn’t you say something?”

“Because we can use her,” Isaac said. Lydia looked up at him. “Right?”

“She’s beneficial, yeah,” Lydia said. “She can help Danny and Stiles, I _know_ there’s a part of her that wants to help and we’re all unequipped to help those two. And if I stay close, if I keep learning, maybe I can figure out where she fits with the journal.”

“You still should’ve said something earlier,” Scott said.

“I know,” Lydia said, holding his hand between both of hers. He could tell she was still shaking. “I just didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

“And you are now?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Lydia said. “I’ll stay close to her. I won’t let her hurt Stiles or Danny.”

Scott hoped she could keep it all in control.

 

-.-

 

Stiles tried to ignore the police files spread out over the table as he walked towards the fridge. John barely spared him a glance. In all honesty, Stiles had meant it when he said he wanted to be a kid still, at least while at home. Seeing the files though, seeing his father’s pinched expression, it made him want to help. He knew he could help.

“New case or an old one Scott’s dad is making you reopen?” Stiles asked, taking a seat on the opposite end of the table and opening the can of soda.

“Both, actually,” John said, then looked up. “You sure you want to talk about this?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Stiles said. “How is it both?”

“There have been two murders,” John said, gathering up two files and handing them over. “They have marks carved into the bodies and Chris Argent seems to think there’s a Darach doing ritual sacrifice.”

Stiles looked over the mutilated bodies and then looked at the information on where the bodies were found. “What’s a Darach?”

John shrugged. “Chris described them as dark magic Druids. They use ritualistic murder to gain power.”

“Nice,” Stiles said with a short laugh.

John let out a bitter laugh of his own. “I know, we just can’t catch a break, huh?”

Stiles pulled out his phone and typed in the coordinates for the locations of the first two bodies. “So why the old case?”

“Deputy Parrish found the connection actually,” John said, pushing some papers aside. “There were nine murders ten years ago, bodies with the same marks. We were never able to catch the killer and so I guess…we’d _hoped_ that it was over.”

“So it’s a Darach thing that ritualistically killed nine people, left for ten years, and now is doing it again,” Stiles said as he recorded the nine other locations. Two of them matched the locations of the two new deaths. “Here.”

John took his phone, lips flattening into a grim line. “Well, at least now we know the seven next locations.”

“Watching the areas might convince them to wait,” Stiles said. “Or, the pack can catch them in the act.”

“Stiles-“

“Seriously. You really want to send your unequipped coworkers to handle a magical piece of shit that murders people for power?”

“I don’t like feeling hopeless and I want this case closed. This town needs a murderer to be caught, Stiles, not dealt with by the…supernatural mafia,” John said.

“Dad, if you or anyone else goes in, they’ll just get killed and you know it. Let us deal with this. Please.” Stiles took a deep breath, hating how desperate he sounded.

“I _know_ , Stiles!” John shouted. “But letting my _son_ protect me, letting you get hurt _again_ , I can’t do that.”

Stiles looked away. “Then let the pack handle it. I’ll stay out of it.”

“You can’t even resist look at my files,” John said, pushing Stiles’ phone back across the table.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles grabbed his phone and got to his feet. John rubbed at his eyes and Stiles realized for the first time how exhausted John was, the bags under his eyes dark and apparent. “I’ll stop.”

He headed upstairs before he could say anything to make it worse.

 

-.-

 

"I missed this,” Erica mumbled against the hollow of Isaac’s throat.

She’d come over after Lydia and Scott left and what had started as studying while curled up together had somehow ended in Erica riding his dick until they’d both come. He could feel her fingers, gentle and light, tracing the scratches she’d made on his chest. He buried his nose in her hair, relaxing further as he inhaled her scent.

“I feel like we’ve all sorta lost touch with each other,” Isaac said after he managed to re-gather his thoughts. “I’ve forgotten how to be close with you guys but this was…this felt like how we used to be. It was always easiest with you.”

Erica smiled against his skin. “I love Lydia a lot, but being with you and Boyd has always felt more…natural. You two were the first people I was ever close with.”

“I think we all were for each other,” Isaac said.

Erica pulled back to look up at him. “How are you and Derek? Any better?”

Isaac frowned. “We’re trying. We barely know how to hold each other.”

“I can try to help,” Erica said. “Maybe it’s still too scary to be on your own with each other.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way. You’re right though,” Isaac said. “Maybe it _is_ too much to handle on our own.”

Erica rolled off the bed in search of her jeans to pull out her phone. “I’ll ask him to join us.”

“He’s right downstairs you know,” Isaac said.

“This is less awkward than yelling down the stairs asking if he wants to fuck” she said. She tossed her phone onto the pile of her clothes on the floor and then straddled his lap. Isaac could still feel the wet slick of her on his thighs. “Round two.”

He tugged her down for a kiss in response. It was easy to lose himself in her, his nerves about the potential of Derek joining them dissolving in the face of her affection. He moved them, pressing her down into the mattress as he kissed her breathless. He didn’t even realize Derek had entered the room until the bed dips behind him. Erica wrapped her arms around his neck so he couldn’t look back.

"Focus on me,” she said. “Relax. It’s Derek.”

Isaac shivered as Derek’s scent began to fill his nose. He can’t help but lean forward, burying his face in Erica’s neck even as he tilts his hips up. It made him nervous, being vulnerable to Derek again. Having Erica wrapped close to him makes it easier to steady himself.

“He won’t touch you until you say,” Erica said. “He’s just waiting and looking, taking you in.”

Isaac bit at her neck. “Fuck.”

She laughed, arms falling to wrap around his shoulders.

“Can he…can he touch me?” Isaac asked.

“Ask him, not me,” Erica said.

Isaac couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped him at the thought, but he took a steadying breath. “Please touch me, Derek.”

“How?” Derek’s voice sounded shot, hoarse like he’d been screaming. “Tell me how Isaac.”

 Isaac wanted to scream in frustration. He didn’t _know_ what he wanted, not really, he just needed Derek to hurry up and touch him do _something,_ do _anything_.

“Shh, I got you,” Derek said, his warm hand settling on Isaac’s hip.

There was something about the bare skin on bare skin, being vulnerable and ready for Derek to do whatever he wants, that makes Isaac settle in his skin fully in a way he hadn’t in months. Derek’s hand stroked down his thigh and then back up as he pressed closer to him on the bed, leaning over him and kissing the space between his shoulders. Isaac clung tighter to Erica even as he arched up into him.

Isaac could feel Derek’s dick sliding along his thigh and it made his own jerk against his stomach. Derek moved back, hands squeezing as his as before he kneels down and licks over Isaac’s hole. It happened so fast that Isaac hadn’t been able to prepare for it so he ended up shaking and trembling, nails slipping into claws and pinching at Erica’s sides as he rocked back for more of Derek’s tongue.

He felt like he was going out of his mind. It had been so long since the last time Derek had touched him like this, touched him like they were together. Every inch of him had missed him, and now that he had it back, it was almost too much to handle at once, like being set on fire. Erica held him closer, kissing his temple as Derek worked over his hole with his lips and tongue.

“You’re so good for him,” Erica murmured, shifting a bit on the bed to grab the lube off the night stand and toss it down towards Derek. “It looks good, seeing you let go like this. You’re always so in control with me, but watching you come undone for our Alpha is…”

She trailed off but Isaac could feel the wet slick of her cunt sliding against his chest as she squirmed against him. It made it even better to know his packmate was getting enjoyment out of seeing him too. The click of Derek snapping open the lube drew his attention away from her though and he couldn’t help but tense up as Derek pulled his mouth away so he could slick up his fingers. Even though he expected his fingers, it still took him by surprise when two of Derek’s fingers began to rub against his hole.

That didn’t stop him from starting to rock back on them. Derek kissed the dip of his lower back and slid one finger in, nice and easy like he and Isaac had never been apart, had never had an issues. Isaac got his arms up under him, holding himself steady as Derek fucked the finger in. Erica shifted up to capture his lips in a kiss and Isaac kissed back just as eagerly, pressing her back into the mattress even as his hips rock back.  He felt safe this way, trapped between the two of them, safe in a way he hadn’t been in a while.

Derek nudged in the next finger, lips still pressed to Isaac’s back. He brushed them back and forth and a moment later, Isaac realized he was murmuring something against Isaac’s skin under his breath. Isaac pulled back from the kiss, concentrating as hard as he could even with the distracting pleasure of Derek’s fingers fucking into him.

“Missed you, missed you being mine, missed this…”

Derek’s voice was barely audible but the words made Isaac shiver and push back more. Derek took it as an invitation to slide in his third finger, the stretch and burn of it pushing a desperate moan out of Isaac’s throat. Erica’s fingers trailed up and down his sides, her touch light and tickling in contrast to the rough fucking of Derek’s fingers into him.

“Isaac,” Derek said, his voice still sounding rough and strained. “Do you…do you want me to fuck you or…what do you want?”

Isaac closed his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to the space between Erica’s breasts. Erica kissed his forehead and moved her fingers to stroke up and down his back instead.

“No. Just…this,” Isaac said. “Make me come like this.”

“Alright, alright…”

Derek’s fingers twisted and spread inside him before centering in on his prostate and rubbing with pointed focus while his other hand moved around to grasp his cock, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Erica moved her hands to Isaac’s head instead, stroking through his head and holding him steady as more moans began to spill from his lips. It helped to have her there. It helped to know she was there, made the vulnerability easier to bare. Having her there made it easier to trust Derek.

When he came it was with a shout, going tense all over as it washed through him before collapsing on Erica, panting against her chest as Derek slid his fingers out. He took a deep breath, trying to reorient himself even as he swam through the floating feelings that always accompanied a good orgasm.

“Isaac, can you…can I…”

"Words, Derek,” Erica said, a teasing note in her voice.

Derek huffed out a laugh and then prodded at Isaac’s hips, helping him turn over on his back. Isaac looked up at him, and it didn’t feel as scary as it had in the past.

“What do you want?” Isaac asked.

“Can I jack off on you?”

The thought of it, the thought of Derek covering him in his scent, made Isaac’s soft cock give a valiant twitch.

"Yeah, come on.”

Isaac shifted up so that he could lean fully against Erica and she hooked her chin over his shoulder as Derek straddled his thighs and started to jerk off. Isaac licked his lips and stared at him, eyes flicking between Derek’s face and his dick. Part of him wanted to knock Derek’s hand away and replace it with his mouth but he didn’t want to push himself or Derek, not when they were still figuring out how to be with one another again.

Derek came with a low groan, barely audible. His come splattered over Isaac’s dick and Isaac couldn’t help but reach down and give his dick a slow stroke, covered in Derek’s come. Derek’s eyes flared red for a moment and then he ducked down pressed his lips to Isaac’s. Isaac kissed him back and lost himself between the two of them.

 

-.-

 

Stiles waited a few minutes after Lydia left, waiting to make sure that she wasn’t coming back. He was determined to get Deaton alone. He didn’t want anyone in the pack to know, or run the risk of them thinking he was pushing himself too hard. Part of him worried that he was. Then again, he was so reluctant to be actively involved, he supposed his worry had no basis in reality.

Still, walking into the clinic was hard. He couldn’t help but associate Deaton with the training he regretted so much. Deaton looked surprised to see him, but otherwise, as usual, Stiles couldn’t get a read on him.

“What can I help you with Stiles?” Deaton asked, leaning forward on the counter.

“I…did my dad come in at all and ask you about the murders?” Stiles asked.

Deaton frowned. “No, actually, why?”

“He and Chris seem to think it’s something called a Darach,” Stiles said. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about them.”

“Why?” Deaton asked. “Why not have your father ask me instead?”

Stiles chewed at the inside of his cheek and stared down at the counter, debating if he should say how he really felt. It wasn’t as though he and Deaton had a relationship built on trust, even with all the time and training Deaton had invested in him. Then again, he couldn’t come up with a convincing lie.

“I feel useless not doing anything. I don’t want to be as involved with the pack as I was, but I’m good at this stuff,” Stiles said. “I’ve got to do something.”

“You impress me sometimes, Stiles,” Deaton said.

“Only sometimes?”

“Yes,” Deaton said. “I’m not here to inflate your ego. You’ve been through a lot and it’s admirable that you’ve remained loyal despite it. I would just caution you not to think you’re valuable only if you’re useful.”

“So does that mean you won’t tell me anything?” Stiles asked.

“No, I will,” Deaton said as he straightened back up. “It would be remiss not to tell you to be cautious. We should consider this conversation in the back.”

Stiles nodded and followed him to the back room. He avoided even looking at the stairs leading to the training room in the basement. Even thinking of it made his stomach drop. Stiles hopped up on the table when they reached the back room, keeping his gaze down.

“Remember, Stiles, when you were able to extend the mountain ash to what you needed?” Deaton asked. “You have the spark that made it possible to do so. Druids have a roaring fire in comparison to that power, and they have potential to grow that fire. You do not, as your tiny amount of power comes from your pack.”

“And Darachs are Druids that used ritualistic murder to get stronger,” Stiles said.

“Exactly.”

“So are they human? Do they look human?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, they’re just as human as us. They just have something extra,” Deaton said. “They can summon spirits for fighting, and some have some basic control over the elements. The powers can really vary depending on what the person has chosen to cultivate.”

“So my dad and all the other cops probably shouldn’t try and catch the Darach?” Stiles asked.

“Definitely not,” Deaton said. “In fact I would argue that the pack stay away as well. The people best equipped to deal with this are Jennifer and Lydia and maybe the Argents as well if only because their training makes them well-equipped.”

“Why Lydia and Jennifer?” Stiles asked.

“Banshees already are in tune with the magic and energy that flows through the world. They have the power to become Druids or Darachs, or at the very least hold their own against them,” Deaton said.

“Does Lydia know?” Stiles asked.

Deaton shrugged. “I’m not sure what all Jennifer has taught her, but if she doesn’t know now, she will.”

“Do you think she’d be able to take on the Darach in like…” Stiles pulled out his phone to look at the dates separating the deaths. “Two days?”

“Definitely not. I can share the information with Jennifer though. Perhaps she can do something,” Deaton said.

Stiles swung his legs as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “How powerful is a Darach, how dangerous?”

"It depends on how many people they’ve killed, how long they’ve been alive, what rituals they did…there’s a lot of variables,” Deaton said. “You could have someone barely stronger than you or I, or someone approaching the common concept of God.”

"Well they killed nine people ten years and it looks like they’re trying to do the same again,” Stiles said.

“Whoever it is must be doing a very complex ritual, which means they’ll be quite powerful,” Deaton said.

“But why here?” Stiles asked, looking up at Deaton.

“This town is called Beacon Hills for a reason, even if the people who named it didn’t exactly know why,” Deaton says. There are many power nodes in this area, places where, for whatever reason, paths of energy converge. It attracts people to it, supernatural or otherwise. Normal people just don’t realize why, or even that they are, being drawn to it.”

“So we’ve got a powerful, magic wielding entity sacrificing people to gain more power from a land saturated in energy,” Stiles said. “Do I have that right?”

Deaton shrugged. “More or less.”

“Great,” Stiles said, hopping off the table. “I should probably talk to Scott and Derek about this.”

“I’ll make sure Jennifer and Lydia are caught up,” Deaton said. “But Stiles?”

“Hm?”

“Keep digging. Anyone willing to do something for ten years might be willing to do so even longer, and finding patterns has always been your strong suit.”

Stiles lips twisted up into a small smile. “Will do.”

 

-.-

 

Scott wasn’t expecting to find Stiles waiting for him by his car after lacrosse. Hanging out just wasn’t something they did anymore.

"Can I come over?” Stiles asked.

“Sure, where’s your Jeep?”

“Across the lot. I figured I’d spend the night if that’s cool with you.” Stiles wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. Mom’s working late though so you’ll have to put up with my terrible cooking,” Scott said.

“Eh, what’s new?” Stiles said, flashing him a quick grin.

It was so normal, Scott wanted to beg to see it again. Instead, he nudged Stiles’ shin with his foot and moved passed him to toss his bags in the trunk. Stiles did the same and then got in the car on the passenger side. The drive over was quiet, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Or maybe Scott was just too used to the silence.

“I was talking with Deaton,” Scott said. “My eyes turned red the other day and Deaton said it’s because I have the potential to become a true Alpha.”

“So like, you’re stronger or what?”

“I guess so,” Scott said as they came up to a stoplight. “The way Deaton explained it made it sound like I’ve got the potential to be a really good Alpha, so the werewolf part of me is trying to force the change anyways.”

“When did your eyes turn red?” Stiles asked.

Scott’s grip tightened on the wheel as the light turned green. “I was arguing with my dad. It happened after he left.”

“I hate your dad,” Stiles said. “And not just because he’s been a grade-A douchebag to my dad. I hate for what he did to you and your mom, and I hate that he’s hanging around and making it all worse again because he doesn’t _deserve_ you or your mom’s forgiveness, you know? Like, fuck him.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, a smile stretching over his lips. He’d missed this Stiles. “You know, sometimes I wished my mom had pressed charges. Sure he can’t hurt us now but…”

“It feels like he can,” Stiles said.

“Exactly.” Scott reached over to poke Stiles in the side. “I missed this you. By the way. I feel like I haven’t been able to talk with you, and part of that’s my fault, I know.”

“But part of it’s me too,” Stiles said. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“But is Jennifer helping?” Scott asked. It felt weird to ask, given what Lydia had told him, but he wanted to at least know that keeping Jennifer’s potentially dangerous self had a purpose.

“I think so,” Stiles said. He was looking out the window again. “Therapy is kind of dumb in itself? Like, I don’t really want to tell her my whole life story or whatever, you know? But she does make me think. I just want to do that thinking on my own, not in her office where she looks at me like she’s judging me, though I kind of feel like every therapist is judging me so maybe that’s my problem.”

“Still, it’s good she’s making you think,” Scott said. “What…about?”

Stiles didn’t say anything for a moment and Scott wished he could take the question back. “I’m not sure I’m ready to put it into words yet, you know? Because as soon as I do that…”

“It makes it true.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, looking over at him. There was a hint of a smile on his lips though, so Scott couldn’t help but feel like maybe he hadn’t fucked it up after all. “But when I figure it out, when I want to talk about it…I’ll tell you. You’re the first on my list.”

           

-.-

 

Lydia woke with a scream clogged in her throat. She sucked in a tight breath, stifling the noise before jerking upright, panic lancing through her as she realized she was out in the middle of the woods, wet leaves crinkling under her hands. She lurched to her feet, cursing under her breath when she realized she was just in her night gown, her phone no where near her. Her heart raced faster and she pressed a hand to her chest, willing it to slow down, but all that seemed to do was make her panic more so she stumbled over to the nearest tree to steady herself against it, closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a few deep breaths.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered. “You aren’t hopeless. You’re a banshee, you have banshee powers, _use them_.”

Saying the words didn’t help all that much and it was only after she had taken several more deep breaths that her heart rate started to slow enough that she could focus. Her fingers dug into the bark, sharp stings of pain biting at the soft skin under her nails. The energy surged up to her and she let out a gasp as she felt her pack bonds flare to life. There was something else though too, a dark and desperate energy that seemed to claw at her and pull her in, but it didn’t feel evil. It felt scared.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the the pack bonds connecting her to the members of the pack. She knew she could follow them back to safety. But there was someone out there with her, she could feel them, and maybe she’d felt them in her sleep like she always had and her body had carried her part way there. She could stop it before it happened this time.

She pulled away from the tree and turned her eyes to the ground. A deep, rust colored chain, glowing faintly with its sickly light, stretched from her feet and further into the woods. She followed after it. The chain never ran out, but the sense or urgency grew stronger with each step she took and it wasn’t long before she broke into a run, uncaring of the twigs she snapped beneath her feet and instead just trusting her instincts to carry her properly.

Lydia heard the man begging before she reached him and she grabbed the trunk of a tree to slow herself, sucking in a tight breath. She could see a dark figure hunched over on the ground, dark chains shooting from its body. The dark chain connecting herself to the body stretched out on the ground, the body that belonged to whoever was begging, grew dimmer and dimmer and panic seized her once more. She didn’t know who it was, who was robbing the victim of its life. She wasn’t a werewolf. She couldn’t fight.

But she could scream.

The energy rushed up within her and she watched as it pulsed through her pack bonds, rushing into her body and up through her throat until she opened her mouth. The wail tore out of her. The crouched figure reeled back and fled, faster than she’d even seen a werewolf move. A moment later, she collapsed, the energy rushing back out of her as quickly as she’d taken it in.

She let out a wet sob, tears splashing onto the leaves as her arms trembled. The chain connecting her and the body on the ground had turned silver and seemed to be glowing at a normal enough level. She crawled over towards them only to collapse a few feet away as she sucked in more lungful’s of air. The person coughed and sat up and she realized all at once who it was?”

“Mr. Harris?”

“Oh, Lydia,” he said. He wiped at the blood dripping down his temple from several deep marks. “I guess we should talk.”

“Yeah,” she said, a note of hysteria in her voice.

“I have…a cellphone somewhere,” he said, patting down his suit pants and then tossing it towards her. “You should call your pack. I think they’d be more use to us than the police.”

"My…wait, you _know_?” she asked.

“Of course I know,” he said as Lydia reached out to pick up the phone and start dialing Allison’s number.

“Great,” she said.

“Lydia?” Allison asked.

Lydia looked away from Mr. Harris. “Yeah, we got a problem.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrian reveals who he really is, Danny and Stiles pinpoint who the Darach is, Scott finds another victim, and Lydia opens the journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Allison pulled the blanket tighter around Lydia’s shoulders and kissed her forehead before straightening. She’d hoped they could take Lydia home, but the bench in Deaton’s clinic worked for now. She headed for the backroom, moving to stand beside her father along the back wall with her arms across her chest. After hesitating a moment, she leaned into Chris’ weight. It was hard, _exhausting_ , to keep doing this.

Adrian sat on the metal table, eyes closed as Deaton cleaned the sounds along his face and neck. They didn’t look deadly, but Lydia had sworn it felt like he was dying, which just served as a reminder that she could never trust her eyes when it came to the supernatural. She was about to say something when her phone buzzed in her pocket. When she looked down, Derek’s name stared back at her.

 _Derek Hale_ : _Let me in._

“Derek is here,” Allison said.

Deaton looked back at her, a frown on his face. “Did anyone tell him?”

“Lydia pulled in a lot of power,” Adrian said. “It would’ve been noticeable to the werewolf members of the pack.”

Allison tamped down on her protective anger. Shouting and demanding answers from him wasn’t going to do a damn thing, especially since Derek was so much better at it. She headed to the front of the clinic to open the mountain ash door, lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Derek look Lydia over.

"She look okay to you?” Allison asked, voice unsteady.

"Yeah, just exhausted,” Derek said. “I felt it, we all did. She pulled out our energy.”

“I didn’t feel it,” Allison said.

“You aren’t as sensitive to it,” Derek said with a shake of his head. “What happened?”

"There’s a Darach killing people for power and Lydia stopped them, at least for the moment,” Allison said.

“Do we know who it is?” Derek asked.

“No, Lydia couldn’t see,” Allison said. “Why, do you have someone in mind?”

“Lydia told me and Scott she’s started to suspect there’s something wrong with Jennifer,” Derek said. “But we don’t know enough.”

“Maybe the Darach’s almost victim has more information.”

“So Lydia saved someone this time?” Derek asked.

Allison smiled, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Yeah, it’s something. Maybe it’ll make things easier on her now because she can actually save them before something happens.”

“Did she tell you the cost?” Derek wouldn’t look at her.

“No, why?” Allison asked, voice hard.

“Talk to her about it, it’s not mine to tell,” Derek said.

“Fine. Come on.”

Derek followed after her and it took all of her strength not to shake him and demand answers. She was starting to feel like she had before. She was starting to feel like she was being kept in the dark, like no one thought she was capable of handling the truth.

Adrian looked better when they reached the back, less shaken and unsteady.

“So who are you really?” Chris asked once Allison and Derek joined him. “And how do you know about Lydia’s powers?”

“I’m a Druid,” Adrian said.

“Great. My chem and physics teacher is a magical hippie,” Allison said. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Deaton asked, and for once he actually sounded surprised. “We could’ve used your help quite a few times.”

“I’ve been laying low on purpose,” Adrian said.

“Why, because you helped Kate kill my family?” Derek asked.

“Not intentionally,” Adrian said. “This town is a hotbed of supernatural activity and I noticed it was building, so I decided to stay and figure out why. I was suspecting there was some sort of Druid or Darach and my suspicions appear to be correct.”

“How long ago did you suspect a Darach?” Chris asked.

“Twenty years. There were a string of ritualistic murders then, another ten years later, and now it’s happening again,” Adrian said.

“So you knew it was happening and you never sought any sort of help?” Deaton asked. The thread of anger was obvious in his voice for once and Allison glanced at Derek. He seemed just as surprised.

“I’m not that powerful. Besides, the werewolf pack you started, Derek, became much more interesting,” Adrian said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s much more interesting than a Darach performing a ritual I can’t figure out.”

“My friends aren’t your science project,” Allison said, stepping up to Adrian and grabbing the front of his shirt to haul him close. “Lydia could’ve died saving your life. People are dying again because for twenty years you were too callous and cold to give a shit.” She shoved him back again. “You’re going to tell us everything you know _and_ you’re going to help us stop this Darach. No more sitting on the sidelines.”

Adrian lifted his chin in defiance. “And what if I refuse?”

“Then we drag you back to where we found you and see if the Darach wants to try again,” Deaton said.

“You wouldn’t,” Adrian said with a strained laugh. “None of you are killers.”

“When it comes to protecting this town, and my friends, you’d be surprised,” Allison said. “You want to take that chance?”

Adrian swallowed, gaze darting between the four of them. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

 

-.-

 

Allison stared out the window, watching the streetlights pass by as her father drove them home.

"You’ve grown up well,” Chris said. “And I know…your mother and I made a lot of mistakes in the way we raised you, mistakes that have done us a lot of damage.”

"Dad…”

“But I’m proud of you. You stand up for what you believe in, more so than I or your mother ever did and knowing that…it makes me think that we’ll be okay. You and I will be okay,” Chris said.

Allison looked over at him. “Thanks. I hope…I hope I can lead us better than Gerard ever did.”

“You’ve already done that,” Chris said. “I’m not worried about where you’ll lead us.”

Allison wished she felt the same.

 

-.-

 

Boyd woke with a startled noise, a deep pull in his chest robbing him of his breath. He could hear Jackson gasping beside him. He reached out and grabbed Jackson’s shirt to haul him upright and Jackson grabbed at him as he struggled to breath. All at once, the feeling stopped. A shudder rolled through him and he and Jackson flopped back on the bed together.

“What the fuck?” Jackson asked, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” Boyd said. “Maybe Lydia’s practicing her powers?”

“At three in the morning? She better not be,” Jackson said.

Boyd’s phone buzzed on the nightstand on Jackson’s side of the bed and he held out his hand for Jackson to hand it to him. Derek’s name glowed at him as the phone continued to buzz.

“Hey. I’ve got a text from Lydia. I’m handling whatever it is she did,” Derek said.

Boyd closed his eyes. “You sure you don’t need us?”

“I’ve got it,” Derek said. “Just uh, didn’t want you to worry. You shouldn’t have to worry about everything that happens. That’s my job.”

"Thanks.” The relief in Boyd’s chest almost felt like too much.

"I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

Derek hung up before Boyd could say anything else. Boyd tossed the phone towards the end of the bed and turned on his side away from Jackson. A moment later, Jackson shifted to spoon up against his back.

“What did Derek mean?” Jackson asked against the back of his neck. “About you not needing to take of everything?”

Boyd wasn’t expecting the question and it made him go still, the intimacy of the words deeper than just sharing a bed. It’d been easy to talk to Stiles about it. Saying the words out loud to Jackson felt harder somehow, made him nervous.

“You don’t…” Jackson started. “I don’t need to know if you don’t want to talk about it or whatever.”

“A lot of people rely on me,” Boyd said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “You never did, but the rest of the pack always has and that’s fine, I’m good at it, but I haven’t been lately.”

"Well you’ve been dealing with a lot of different shit so that’s fine. That you can’t right now,” Jackson said, but his voice sounded unsure.

“It’s not that easy.” Boyd glared at Jackson’s blank bedroom wall. “I’ve always been strong for m family and now the pack but I can’t now and maybe I think…”

Jackson’s arm tightened around Boyd’s waist and Boyd went limp against him. He and Jackson weren’t close by any stretch of the imagination, but maybe that was why it felt easier to admit his weakness now that he had already started. He didn’t need to be strong for Jackson like he did for everyone else.

“I think, sometimes, I’m never going to be the same, that what you did screwed me up forever,” Boyd said. “And I don’t blame you, that’s not what I’m saying. Just…it feels like I’m never going to get better.”

Jackson let out a heavy sigh and pressed closer. Boyd could feel him shaking. “I’m sorry. I…I know what it’s like and I hate that I’m the cause of it.”

Boyd grabbed Jackson’s hand and closed his eyes. “I know you do. It helps, knowing you understand.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” Jackson said. “Doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

Boyd didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know how to say he didn’t think it was true.

 

-.-

 

Stiles sipped his appointment the next day with Jennifer. It had been nice, and he felt a bit like he’d made some progress, at least more than what he’d done on his own, but he couldn’t shake his suspicions. And maybe he’s just being paranoid, but new people in Beacon Hills had never gone over well before. He’d rather do more research, be _useful_ , than talk about his feelings. His dad still refused to give him any information from the police, determined to keep Stiles out of it, which Stiles could only blame himself for.

He’d asked to be treated like a kid again, to have a parent again. But really, it had been foolish to ask. He couldn’t go back and un-kill a man, erase the nightmares and the fighting for a cheap thrill, couldn’t un-traumatize himself. Pretending it hadn’t happened wouldn’t bring the innocence he’d once had back. But Deaton was right. He was good at gathering information and connecting things other people couldn’t, and that was the realm in which he had control. The past wasn’t going to change on him.

Luckily, he didn’t need his dad’s resources. Weird, serial-killer ritualistic murders tended to make the papers after all. He’d tracked the killings back thirty years though he still lacked the exact locations of the killings to be totally sure, when the door bell rang. He checked his phone, but there were no texts outside the updates that Lydia was okay and wanted to see him later. He shoved his phone in his pocket and headed for the front door. When he checked the peephole, he saw Danny nervously bouncing up and down on his toes.

"Uh, hey,” Stiles said after he opened the door.

“Hey,” Danny said, an uncertain smile on his lips. He looked tired though, the bags under his eyes prominent and obvious. “I…thought we should probably try and talk again, or at least, Jennifer thought we should.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Stiles said, opening the door wider and stepping back to let him in.

Danny kicked his shoes off and headed for the couch. Stiles followed after him, keeping a solid foot between them to help resist the urge to curl into him. Talking with Scott had made him crave the closeness again.

"She was saying that like…a lot of my guilt is coming from you, well coming from how I felt like I was supposed to fix you, but I can’t,” Danny said, the words pouring out of him like water.

“Yeah, that’s…why I thought we should break up,” Stiles said. “I was dragging you down and you couldn’t see it.”

"But I do now. I get that I can’t…sacrifice my happiness for you or my life for the pack,” Danny said.

Stiles couldn’t quite keep the sting the words made him feel off his face. “That’s…I’m glad you’re putting yourself first because it’s good for you, but why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know what my priorities are, I can have boundaries so that I can stay with you and the pack without getting overwhelmed. I _want_ that, I want to be with you if you uh…still want that,” Danny said.

"I’m not there yet,” Stiles said, chest tight. “I’m…you’ve gotta give me time still, and I think you might change your mind after what I say next.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“I think Jennifer might be dangerous.”

“So why did you say I should talk to her?” Danny’s expression went from open to closed off in a second.

“I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve been going to her for help too, but I’ve been digging into these murders and I don’t know, better safe than sorry, yeah?” Stiles asked.

“You know, I was really excited about the progress I was making and now…” Danny slumped back against the couch.

“I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

“It’s weird though. I told her I’d give her anything to start feeling normal again,” Danny said. “She seemed to sincere.”

“She did with me too. I’m not saying she didn’t help us because she did, I’m just saying that maybe she had an ulterior motive.” Stiles stared down at his lap, brain spinning as he thought about what Lydia had told him of her powers. “When…when did you start feeling tired?”

Danny looked up at him and Stiles met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The bags under her eyes. You look exhausted,” Stiles said. “But you didn’t last time I saw you and it really hasn’t been that long.”

“I don’t know, pretty recent I guess. I nap a lot more than I used to, I just figured I was coming down with something,” Danny said. “Do you think she’s doing something to me?”

“I think it’s a safe bet. Back when we first started talking, she tried to make me say what you did, the whole giving her anything to feel again,” Stiles said. “What if you gave her permission?”

Danny went pale, fingers curling into fists on his lap. “This can’t be happening again.”

“It won’t,” Stiles said, getting to his feet. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you and I swear, I’ve got this under control. I know what I’m doing, maybe. Let me grab some of my shit, okay? We need to see Deaton.”

"Right,” Danny said, sounding more than a little unsettled.

Stiles ducked his head to press a kiss to Danny’s lips. “I got this okay? Promise.”

 

-.-

 

“So you think it’s a serial killer,” Rafael said.

John looked up from his paperwork. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious. The markings are hardly common.”

“Sir?” Parrish asked, pushing passed Rafael. “We found another body, right where you thought we would.”

“Can you process the paperwork for me? I’m a little busy,” John said.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Parrish said. “I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

He knocked his shoulder hard against Rafael’s on his way out. John hid his smile by ducking his head.

"What could you be doing that’s more important than dealing with the latest killing by a serial killer?” Rafael asked as he took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of John’s desk.

“I’m putting together a pattern,” John said, setting his pen down to look at Rafael head on. “This killer has been here before, twice actually. The locations are always the same so potentially, we’ll be able to catch them. We have to be smart about it. Nothing is ever as simple as a basic killer, not in this town.”

“So you think it’s deeper than just a killer? A cult maybe?” Rafael asked, snagging the file off the desk and flipping through it.

John turned back to his computer to plug in older dates. “Something like that.”

“If you know the next date and location, why not send people in to canvas and watch the area?” Rafael asked.

“I want more information. I’m not sending my men in blind to this situation. We’ve done that too many times,” John said. He looked back at Rafael. “And just because you’re FBI doesn’t mean you get to go through my files whenever you want, so put it down and get out.”

Rafael glanced over one more page for another brief moment before handing it back. “Actually I can, but I’m willing to let this play out on its own. I’ll defer to your judgment.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

-.-

 

“I always knew you were evil,” Stiles said.

“I’m literally helping save Danny’s life, don’t be dense,” Adrian said.

Stiles watched as Adrian continued to sprinkle a mixture of herbs around where Danny sits.

“You could’ve been helping us for years.” Stiles looked at Deaton. “And you could’ve told us Jennifer was a fucking Darach.”

“I didn’t know Stiles. She’s been a friend for years and I had no reason to doubt her,” Deaton said.

"Well nice Druids certainly don’t drain the life out of their clients,” Adrian said. “And she’s definitely doing that. I haven’t picked up on any dark energy from her though, even now that I know, so I wouldn’t be mad at Deaton.”

“Has anyone texted the pack?” Danny asked.

"Not yet. They’d overreact,” Stiles said, gnawing at the cuticle of his thumb. “We have to make sure you’re safe and then we’ll figure out what the hell we do to stop her.”

“I would exercise caution,” Deaton said.

“I’m not super inclined to listen to you right now,” Stiles said.

“He’s right though,” Adrian said as he dug through Deaton’s chest of herbs and minerals. “I’ve been studying the way this Darach kills for two decades and I gave what I’ve gathered to the Argents to try and find out what the Darach is planning.”

“What Jennifer is planning,” Danny corrected.

“Right, whatever,” Adrian said. “I don’t know what it is but it’s going to be big because she’s very powerful. Just going after he without knowing what exactly she’s planning Is just going to your death. It’s better not to let her know you’re onto her.”

“Won’t breaking our connection reveal that we know?” Danny asked.

Adrian started to crush his mixture of minerals with a mortar and pestle. “That’s unlikely. She’ll be so juiced up at this point that she won’t notice the loss.”

“Can you do it?” Stiles asked. “If you can read the energy, can you connect yourself to another person and drain them too.”

"No,” Adrian said. “She’s a banshee, which gives her greater control and manipulation of life and energy. I could kill someone and take their energy to turn into power. Keeping someone alive while I do it? That’s beyond the power of a Druid or Darach.” He dumped the mixture of minerals onto Danny’s head. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to die any time this year,” Danny said.

Adrian sat in front of him, the line of herbs separating them as he held his hands on top of Adrian’s, shooting Stiles a worried look. Adrian closed his eyes and started to murmur under his breath. A moment later, the herbs turned to flame, vanishing with a deep whooshing noise and then dying down to an inch-high ring of fire. Stiles kept his gaze focused on Adrian, watching his face for any sign of struggle. About the time the minerals on Danny’s head began to glow with a soft gold light, Adrian’s voice grew louder.

Stiles wasn’t sure what the language was. Even with the years of hard feelings between them, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Adrian’s obvious display of power. Adrian squeezed Danny’s hands tighter. The flames leapt higher and then went out all at once. Danny collapsed forward but Adrian caught him, patting his back as he coughed.           

“Is he okay?” Stiles asked, kneeling down beside them.

“I’m good,” Danny said as he sat back up with another weak cough.

“You’ll be pretty tired for awhile,” Adrian said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “But maybe you should call your pack together. Helping Danny is hardly going to make her weaker.”

"Right. We all need to consolidate our information,” Stiles said.

“Just don’t let her know you’re onto her,” Adrian said. “She’s too dangerous and taking her by surprise would just make her unpredictable. At least right now you know her movements.”

Stiles looked over at Deaton. “She was your friend. What do you think she’s planning?”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly well-versed in Darach rituals and she never told me she was planning anything like this.”

“If you don’t know anything about these rituals than why did you have a chest full of stuff Adrian could use?” Stiles asked, getting to his feet. “Do you ever tell the truth?

“You think I like hearing that a friend of mine is a murderer?” Deaton asked.

“Well, you don’t exactly seem surprised,” Stiles said.

“Stiles,” Danny started, standing up to grab Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles shrugged him off. “No matter what happens in this town, no matter how many people die, you never seem surprised or care. You just let us all go off and put ourselves in danger with a limited amount of information.”

Deaton didn’t move an inch even when Stiles stepped up into his space. “I’m a retired emissary.”

“You can’t just hide behind that. Don’t you care at all that your inaction, over and over again, almost gets us killed?”

“Would you like an apology?” Deaton asked, voice and expression unreadable.

“What would that do? How about acting like you’d care if we all died?” Stiles took a deep breath and stepped back. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter that you don’t care because we’ll save the day again, without your help.”

"I do care,” Deaton said as Stiles and Danny headed for the stairs.

Stiles stopped but didn’t turn around. “Sure you do.”

“I already lost one pack on my watch. I may not be the emissary for the new Hale Pack but I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“Try vetting your friends next time.”

 

-.-

 

“Hey I got it,” Melissa said, grabbing the plates from Scott before he could take them to the sink. “You should go for a run.”

Scott frowned. “What?”

“You’re stressed.” Melissa smoothed out the creases on his forehead with her thumb. “Those frown lines are going to be permanent if you keep it up.”

"Point taken. Thanks.”

Scott went to the front door to pull his shoes on before heading out. Lacrosse practice was a good workout but even this late, with the sun long set, he could feel energy humming in his veins. It’d be nice to burn some of it off for real. Maybe then he’d be able to focus longer than ten minutes on his homework.

It wasn’t long before he found himself on Allison’s usual running paths through the woods. There was something comforting about her scent deep beneath the wet leaves and dirt, a reminder that even when he felt like he was alone, he could always depend on her. The scent of blood was jarring in comparison. He skidded to a halt, tilting his head. It wasn’t just blood. Beneath the bitter tang was something much more familiar; Rafael.

Scott broke into a sprint, leaping over fallen logs and navigating through trails invisible to the naked eye. His heart rate leapt, panic joining the exertion. There was a figure sprawled on the ground in a clearing ahead and he dropped to his knees when he reached them, turning them onto their back. It was Rafael, marks carved into his face and neck. Scott scrambled back, hands, _claws_ sinking into the mud as alarm rose up through him quick and hot. It felt like his veins were on fire, like he was too big for his bones and moments from exploding into…something.

The howl broke free of his lungs as his vision spun.

 

-.-

 

Lydia watched as Allison set Electra’s journal on her dresser. Apparently expending all of her energy the night before had worked in her favor because for once, she couldn’t hear it. She’d almost forgotten what the silence felt like.

“You didn’t miss much at school by the way,” Allison said, climbing onto Lydia’s bed beside her and setting her backpack between them.

"Somehow, school is the least of my concerns.”

Allison cupped her jaw, tilting her head up so she could press their lips together. Lydia wanted to enjoy the touch, but guilt was like cold lead in her stomach so she pulled back. Allison didn’t even look surprised.

“What aren’t you telling me Lydia?” she asked. She didn’t look hurt by the fact Lydia was hiding something and Lydia couldn’t help but wonder how she’d gotten so lucky to have someone so understanding in her life.

“This…banshee thing. The stronger I get, the longer I live. I could…live way passed all of you,” Lydia said. She took a deep breath before continuing. “And it scares the hell out of me because I don’t _want_ that.”

"Shit. I didn’t realize…” Allison sighed and shoved her bag aside so she could wrap an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “That…changes things.”

“Yup.” Lydia rested her head against Allison’s shoulder. “One of the items I used to access the memories of a banshee, it held all her sadness of outliving her family. She was so… _lonely_. I don’t want to end up that way. I _can’t_.”

Before Allison could say anything, her phone went off. Lydia moved so she could check, frowning when Allison scrambled off the bed to rush and grab her coat.

“What is it?” Lydia asked.

“Something’s wrong with Scott.” Allison shoved her feet into her shoes. “I’ll text you. Stay put.”

“Too tired to go anywhere if I wanted to,” Lydia said.

Allison rushed out the door and Lydia grabbed a pillow to scream her frustration into. It didn’t help. All shew anted was for them to catch a break. She rolled out of bed and grabbed Allison’s bag to put over by the door, stopping a moment to look at the journal. She trailed her fingers over the spine of it, gasping as the voices rushed back in.

_Open it now Lydia Martin. It has to be now! If you wait any longer it’s too late!_

Lydia dropped Allison’s bag and picked up the journal. “Fuck it.”

She opened the journal and let the memories flow in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Electra's memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate posting short chapters but it wouldn't work to have the whole chapter with this. The next chapter is going to take awhile to come out and it should be around 7-8k. A lot will be happening. We're roughly 3-4 chapters from the end.

_“You will never convince them. Even if you show then what is coming, we are not all selfless beings willing to throw away our lives for the future.”_

_Electra wanted to scream, shake her sister’s shoulders and yell until she had convinced her. But if she had learned anything in her century as an Oracle alongside her sisters, it was that logic and rationality was all that would get through. Kings were so much easier to manipulate into action with emotion and insult._

_“If I show enough, if we all do, they will understand there isn’t another option. Melaina, please. We have to try. If we do nothing, one of our own will ruin us all, will ruin everything,” Electra said._

_Melaina’s gaze was harsh. No matter how often she had it turned on her, Electra found the weight of it hard to bear. She was always told she was too emotional, too concerned, too caring for someone meant to learn the future and decide which people to save._

_“So what do we do? What do I tell our sisters? What plan do you have that could possibly convince every banshee to sacrifice her powers for the future?”_

_“I’ll take Thaleia’s place at Delphi. I’ll use the node of energy to reach every banshee and I will show them again and again what I have seen until they give their power to Lydia Martin,” Electra said._

_“You’ll die. Connecting with the energy for that long…” Melaina shook her head. “There’s a reason we rotate duty there.”_

_“I know. But I have to. I’m willing.”_

_“Fine. I will convince the others.”_

_-.-_

_Settling over the vent, inhaling the aroma of burning earth as she sunk her own being into the currents of the world’s energy, always felt like coming home. She cradled a soft bound journal in her hands, her would be link to the future._

_“Mother would be disappointed that you’re doing this,” Thaleia said._

_Electra stared through the smoke to meet her sister’s eyes. “It must be done. I’ve shown you what I’ve seen.”_

_“Still. It will seem cruel that the daughters of the first banshee are going to be the ones to convince them all to die,” Adelpha said as she took a seat at Electra’s back._

_Melite sat down beside Thaleia at a forty-five degree angle from Electra. “They won’t die, they just won’t be banshees anymore.”_

_“Same thing really,” Chara said as she mirrored Melite’s positioning._

_“If anyone can convince our sister, even if they are not so by blood, to give up their powers for the future it is our sister,” Aristomache said as she took her own place across from Melite._

_“Enough,” Melaina said. She stood behind Electra on the other side of Adelpha. “We have already committed to this. Sulking won’t help any of us. Let us begin.”_

_Melaina sat and Electra watched as her sisters took up hands, caging her energy so even if she had doubts, she’d have to finish what she started._

_“We are ready,” Aristomache said. “Whenever you’re ready, sister.”_

_Electra took a deep breath and closed her eyes, plunging into the currents of energy. She let them carry her, didn’t fight as it poured in. She latched herself to the minds of her sisters, crying out as the action sent ripples of pain through her physical form. She could feel her sisters fighting her. Using the telepathic bond they all shared in such a way was a gross invasion of privacy._

_“Stop!” she cried into their minds. “You must see what I have seen. You will listen and you will know what you must do.”_

_Electra threw her head back, a wail tearing free as the energy of the earth burned through her and surged into her sisters. The pain of the town, the roiling dark beneath it which heaved and groaned beneath its chains, the desperation of their far-flung sister, one of the only to survive, but only if they did this now, if they helped her, Lydia Martin-_

_Her sisters rebelled. They could never, not for a future they’d never see. Electra sunk herself deeper and hauled in more energy, multiplying Lydia’s feelings of desperation. She seared it into her sisters’ minds, all of them._

_“Can’t you see? You must! Our sister needs us to save people on a scale we could never hope to. Feel her pain! Tell me she’s not worth saving, that the future is not worth saving!”_

_For a moment, there was nothing._

_When the energy, the life, of her sisters, poured into her, it was like a cooling rain to the blaze of the earth. It rushed through her, through the journal to…yes, there, in her minds eye, she could see Lydia clutching the book, her pack gathered around her where they hadn’t been before._

_“Take it Lydia Martin. Your sisters, we give it freely where others do not. Please…”_

_“Please what?”_

_“Don’t let it be in vain.”_

_The energy was ripped away and Electra collapsed forward into the silence._

_-.-_

_When she came to, she was alone. Her sisters, all of them, gone._

_-.-_

_She couldn’t die, not for a long time. Energy like that didn’t go away overnight._

_-.-_

_The banshees survived scattered and lost. She did her best to teach them without revealing too much. She would not jeopardize the sacrifice her sisters had made._

_-.-_

_Her heart ached._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tries to recover. Jennifer reveals her plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's either two or three more chapters. I might actually finish this by May. Also please note I changed some pairings for the sake of finishing this on time.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

“We should go in,” Stiles said.

He looked over at Allison. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the steering wheel. She sighed and let go.

“What do we even say?” she asked.

"Well, we have the most experience with this,” Stiles said.

Allison laughed, a harsh sound in the muffled silence of the car. “Yeah, I suppose so.” She looked over at him. “I still don’t know what I could say, because when my mother died…nothing could’ve helped.”

“So let’s not try and help,” Stiles said. “We can’t make it better, but we’re his best friends. He needs us.”

He’d been relying on Allison for weeks now. It was new, feeling like they were on equal footing even if they were equally lost. He reached out to squeeze her hand.

“C’mon,” he said.

Allison huffed out another sigh and released his hand so she could step out of the car. Stiles led the way up to Scott’s front door. Melissa answered a few moments after they knocked, eyes swollen and red as she gave them a watery smile.

“Hey guys,” she said. “Scott’s in his room.”

She started to head back towards the kitchen and Stiles hesitated a moment before following after her. Allison headed up the stairs instead. He reached out to touch Melissa’s shoulder, almost recoiling when she hunched forward and let out a harsh sob. Stiles internally cursed and then tugged her back towards him. She was taller than him, but not too much, and she folded easily into his grasp. He didn’t get it, in a broad sense. He hated Rafael, and maybe he was too emotionally fucked up to understand how she could mourn the loss of a man who’d hurt her and her son even if he’d been her husband at one point.

But he could do this. Melissa had basically raised him after his mother died. He didn’t care that Rafael was dead. His heart hurt for Melissa, and Scott too. That didn’t mean he knew what to say, so he held her instead and rubbed her back, cheek pressed to the top of her head. His shirt was soaked with tears by the time she pulled away and she gave him another watery smile as she wiped her eyes.

"I’m sorry,” she said.

"No, it’s fine. Pretty sure I’ve cried on you a lot more,” he said.

“True,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder before letting her arms hang back down at her sides. “Are we any closer to this ending? I…I hate to put this on you Stiles, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I know the feeling. We’re working as fast as we can,” Stiles said.

“Just…don’t…” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “You should go see Scott.”

Stiles wanted to know what she was going to say, but he knew better by now.

 

-.-

 

Scott stared at his far wall, barely processing the way Allison’s fingers combed through his hair as his head laid in her lap. Exhaustion hung on his limbs, made his whole body feel heavy. Part of it was probably grief, even if he felt numb to it now. The other part…

“I think I’m an Alpha now,” Scott said. “I could feel it.”

Allison’s fingers stilled a moment before she continued. “Derek said you smelled like an Alpha when he found you. Was it seeing your dad that triggered it?”

Scott shrugged. “Don’t know what else would.”

“What do you need from me? What…” She trailed off and then ducked her head to kiss his temple.

“I don’t know.”

“Feel pretty numb?” Stiles asked from the doorway. He shut the door and climbed up onto the bed to stretch out on his side facing Scott. For the first time, Scott felt like he was really understanding what Stiles had felt for months now; the overwhelming flood of emotion that could only be understood and felt as numbness.

“Yeah,” Scott said.

"That’s fine. You’re fine.” Stiles grabbed one of his hands. “You can sleep if you want. Allison and I aren’t going anywhere.”

 

-.-

 

“So…banshees from Greek times foresaw a great disaster coming because of something Jennifer is doing, so they used this journal to store all of their energy to use at the right time. Do I have that right?” Chris asked.

Lydia dragged the glass of water across the breakfast bar and took a long drink of it. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Chris frowned. “But if you haven’t decided to use it yet, then how come the banshees are more or less scattered.”

“I don’t know! I’m not an expert on time-traveling banshee energy,” Lydia said.

“Maybe the journal is storage,” Isaac said as he walked into the kitchen with an armful of books from the Argent’s basement. “They already did the legwork, sacrificing themselves and storing the energy in there. That’s why you hear the voices.”

“It would make sense,” Chris said.

“Great.” Lydia stared down at the journal. “So why can’t I hear it anymore?”        

“You’ve done a lot lately. Your powers could still be exhausted,” Chris said. “Isaac and I will start looking through these to try and find whatever ritual Jennifer is trying to accomplish. Adrian will be joining us once he’s done teaching for the day.”

“So what do I do?” Lydia asked.

“Derek is going to have Scott over tonight,” Isaac said. “Maybe you can try and organize something at Jackson’s to keep everyone away. I guess Scott wants some space.”

Guilt rose up in her gut. She knew Scott’s relationship with his father was bad, but she hated that she hadn’t been strong enough to save him. She clamped down on the feeling though. It would be worse if they saw, if they worried about her even more than they already did.

“Right. I can do that,” she said.

“Strength in numbers will be important moving forward. Jennifer might not know we’re onto her yet, but she will before long,” Chris said. “Danny’s still recovering from the energy she’s been draining from him.”

“I could talk to her,” Lydia said. “See if she has hooks in anyone else.”

“Is there a way you could do that without speaking with her?” Isaac asked. “It’s probably safer if you keep your distance.

“True. God, this sucks.” She meant to say it casually, but she couldn’t help the edge of hysteria in her voice.

Chris leaned forward on his arms on the breakfast bar. “We’ve gotten through a lot before. We can do it again.”

"That’s really _fucking_ easy for you to say, you don’t have thousands of banshees sacrificing themselves so you can do something you don’t want to do!” She took in a heaving breath and folded her arms across her chest. “Sorry.”

"What do you mean something you don’t want to do?” Chris asked.

"It’s…” Lydia waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just freaking out. I’m going to go. Erica, Boyd, and Danny want to be picked up anyways.”

She left before they could say anything else. She didn’t want to put into words her fears about what she had to do. Before, it felt like a choice. She could choose not to use her powers and cling to her mortality. Now, knowing what had been sacrificed to make sure she would be strong enough to face what it was Jennifer was doing, that choice was gone, the only option left to her being to use the power and take away her only shot at mortality in the process.

She choked on a sob and leaned forward, head pressing against the steering wheel. It was too much, the weight of her powers. She wanted to lean on someone, explain the burden and fear. There was no one to tell though, not with Scott’s dad dead, not when they were all trying so hard to keep it together. She couldn’t make it worse. Her phone rang, the sound piercing her thoughts. She took a deep breath and picked it up, not bothering to look at who it was.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Jackson said. “I’m gonna drive everyone home actually, don’t worry. We were thinking of hanging at my place.”

Lydia wiped her eyes dry and pulled down the visor mirror to start fixing her make up with her free hand. “Good, that’s good. I know Scott and Derek wanted to be on their own tonight.”

“Cool. Are you okay? You sound weird,” Jackson said.

“I’ll meet you guys at your place. Just…a lot on my plate, don’t worry.”

“Lydia…”

Lydia watched in the mirror as her lower lip began to tremble. She slammed it shut. “We’ll talk later.”

 

-.-

 

Scott didn’t know what to expect when he showed up at Derek’s. His mind still felt raw, but he could feel the new found power of being an Alpha simmering beneath his skin. When Derek opened the door and they stood face to face though, the world still felt normal. It wasn’t as if the world had been tilted on its axis.

“You smell different,” Derek said.

“Feel different too,” Scott said.

Derek opened the door wider to let him in and Scott went through to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. It smelled strongly of pack, of _home_. The tightness in his chest loosened a bit. He listened as Derek walked across the living room and took a seat in the chair next to the couch. He didn’t expect Derek to reach over and run a hand through his hair.

“How does it fell?” Derek asked.

“How does what feel?” Scott asked, voice muffled against the cushions of the couch.

“It was more of an open question,” Derek said.

“I feel so much that I’m not feeling anything now,” Scott said. “Does that make sense?”

He’d explained it to Stiles and Allison, but he felt like he hadn’t done it right. Stiles understood the feeling. He couldn’t begin to understand the conflicting feelings he had about Rafael’s murder.

“I get it. Becoming an Alpha is hard too. It’s gotta be a lot to deal with at once,” Derek said.

“It feels like…” Scott turned his head to stare across the room, but his eyes slid shut as Derek’s fingers rubbed against his scalp. “I have so much power and no energy to use it.”

“You want to try and burn it off? We can run together,” Derek said.

"What if it makes it worse?” Scott asked, voice tight. “What if it makes me…”

“I’ll be there. I’m still an Alpha. If you lose control, if you feel too much and can’t handle it, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens.” Derek took a deep breath and squeezed the back of Scott’s neck. “It’s not good to hold onto it. Whatever you’re feeling about your dad, holding onto it like this isn’t good.”

Scott shifted on the couch, turning on his side and curling his knees up to his chest. Derek’s fingers skated over his jaw, his ear, before pulling away. “What if what I’m feeling isn’t right?”

“You can’t think of it like that,” Derek said.

“Your dad fucked you and your mom up. You don’t have to mourn him, but you don’t have to be happy he’s dead either. You can feel both, or neither. No one’s asking you to be perfect right now, especially me.”

It was strange, the way Derek’s words settled into his bones and soothed the anxiety, the fear, that what he was feeling was wrong. The fear made it hard to pull back the calloused numbness and really process what he was feeling.

“Can we go run?” Scott asked.

“Sure.”

Scott supposed it was good that Derek had endured what he was feeling now. He felt less self-conscious about his inability to settle, because Derek understood what he was feeling, the conflicting emotions and confusion.           

Derek helped him to his feet and pushed him towards the back door with a steady hand at his back. Scott half expected to feel mad about it. His new             Alpha status didn’t seem to care too much that Derek was in charge and leading the way. Maybe he was just too overwhelmed. There was nothing in him that wanted to be in charge, not now, not when he felt like this. So when Derek set out into the woods, Scott followed without thinking.

It wasn’t a leisurely run. It was a full sprint and even with their werewolf abilities, before long Scott found his heart pounding, each breath filling and burning his lungs. It was impossible to feel numb when he pushed his body like this, when Derek wouldn’t slow down. The feelings swelled up within him, as powerful as the physical sensation.

He slid to a stop, anchoring his claws in the drunk of the nearest tree. He slumped against it as his heart pounded. His breath came faster, tears burning at his eyes for the first time since he’d come face to face with Rafael’s dead body. Derek pulled him back from the tree and at first, Scott resisted. It wasn’t something he wanted someone to see. When Derek’s arms wrapped around him, the fight drained right out of him and he collapsed back against Derek as an ugly sob tore out of him.

It was hard to feel like an Alpha when he felt more like a child. Derek didn’t let him go though. Even as Scott shook and trembled, the pain escaping him in short gasps and sobs, Derek didn’t let go. He clung to the arm wrapped around his chest, anchoring himself to it. Losing track of time was easy. When his crying finally slowed, Derek had maneuvered them both to sit on the ground. Scott let out a heaving sigh and leaned back against Derek, tucking his face against his neck

“You okay now?” Derek asked.

"Not really,” Scott said. He sniffed and wiped at his face. “Crying about it doesn’t change what happened.”

“Well, no,” Derek said, thumb rubbing over the middle of Scott’s chest. “But if you bottle it up…”

"I end up like you?” Scott meant for it to come out as a joke, but his voice was too flat.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I’m not exactly a good example when it comes to handling difficult emotions.”

“I didn’t want him to die,” Scott said all at once, the words tumbling out of him against Derek’s neck. “I hate…hated him and I wanted him to leave me and my mom alone but…”

“Having him dead like this is permanent.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be okay Scott. We’ll stop her,” Derek said.

“Killing her doesn’t bring Rafael back.”

“Do you wish he was? Now that he’s gone?” Derek asked.

The questions made Scott’s chest tighten. “I…I’m glad I don’t have to see him again. I just didn’t want it to be because of this but since this is how it happened…it’s hard to want him back.”

It felt disgusting to admit. It made him feel like a monster, but Derek still hadn’t pushed him away.

“That’s okay. He hurt you and your mom. You don’t have to want him back,” Derek said. “It doesn’t make you a bad person to hate your abusers. I wasn’t comfortable hating Kate for a long time. Obviously I am now but…don’t beat yourself up for hating him still. Being dead doesn’t erase what he did.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Scott whispered.

“It is. I promise it is. No one’s going to judge you for how you feel. Not on this.”

Scott didn’t know what to say. Maybe Derek was right, but he wasn’t worried about what other people thought. He was worried about the guilt in his chest that he felt for hating a dead man. He felt like he was supposed to be above the ugly feelings, but maybe it was better to remove that pressure from himself. There was no reason to hold himself to a higher standard than anyone else. He just wasn’t sure he would ever get rid of the standards he held himself to.

 

-.-

 

“I’m surprised, Stiles. When you actually put your mind to something, you do a good job,” Adrian said.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and resisted the urge to hurl the book of spells across the Argent’s living room at Adrian’s head. Allison nudged his side where she sat on the couch next to him as if she knew what he was thinking. He scanned the table of contents one more time before shutting the book.

"No summoning spells in this one,” he said, putting it on the coffee table with the other useless books.

Isaac groaned from where he lay stretched out on the floor, a book over his face with his arms star-fished out on either side of him. “Why can’t there just be a chapter called ‘Summoning Evil Deities That Can Destroy The World’? That’d be easier.”

“Maybe if Chris had bothered to keep his resources organized, we wouldn’t have to go through every single book he owns,” Adrian said.

"Maybe if you were a better druid we would have a better idea of where to start,” Chris said.

"How about we stop debating who has the biggest dick in the room and focus?” Allison asked.

Stiles snorted, smiling when Allison shot him a quick grin of her own. Adrian and Chris turned their gazes back to their respective books without further bickering or protest. Stiles grabbed another book from the pile. At first glance, the table of contents was just as useless as the others. It was just a list of deities druids called upon for power, divided up alphabetically. Then again…

“I think we’re doing this wrong,” Stiles said as he straightened. “We’re looking for a deadly ritual to summon something. Shouldn’t we try and figure out what she’s trying to get power from, and then figure out what the ritual is so we can figure out a counter ritual?”

He glanced around the room, gaze landing on Adrian.

"That…would be a smart idea, yes,” Adrian said.

Stiles tossed the book towards him. “Well there’s a list. Who seems likely?”

Adrian opened the book. “I’m going to need a pen and paper.”

 

-.-

 

"You and Boyd seem better,” Lydia said, glancing over at Boyd in the passenger seat.

The night had gone well, the group of them piled together on Jackson’s basement floor as they marathon-ed through a collection of Jackson’s movies. Her powers were still weak, but she she focused, she could feel the warm pulse of the energy from her packmates. What had surprised her was the intensity of the bond between Jackson and Boyd. She’d known they’d been trying to get closer, had been trying to reconcile their bad past together, but she hadn’t realized how far they’d managed to come without her help.

Perhaps she was too used to being needed. It was nice to have some of the pressure off of her for once.

“We are. I think. I kind of don’t know what I’m doing,” Boyd said. “I just…I don’t know, we were never friends and now we’re getting close and it’s still weird to think of him as you or Erica. It’s just…I need to feel like he’s pack too. I’ve been having nightmares about what happened but…they’re going away now that I’ve been spending time with him.”

“I’m glad,” Lydia said. “I always worried about him, you know? He didn’t fit in right to begin with and after everything with the Casia Pack, I just figured it’d be even worse.”

"We have more in common than I thought,” Boyd said. “It helps…but…”

She glanced at him. “What?”

“Do you think we’ll ever feel like a real pack?” Boyd asked. “I always thought it was going to be like a second family, and it is in a way, I’m not saying I don’t care about everyone> But it’s not as…perfect as I thought it would be.”

“Well of course not,” Lydia said, only to wince when she realized how harshly it came out. “We’re all people. Holding each other up to impossible standards doesn’t work, and we know that now. We just…have to work out the growing pains.”

“I mean…it has felt better since that pack meeting. I guess maybe it will get better,” Boyd said. “And maybe you can depend on us more.”

Lydia’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Jackson said it sounded like you were crying on the phone earlier,” Boyd said. “What is it that you think you can’t rely on us for?”

"It’s a lot,” Lydia said. “The journal…banshees from the past sacrificed themselves to store their power in it for me to use against Jennifer. I don’t have a choice anymore, I have to use it.”

“And…why is that bad?” Boyd asked.

“Because the more I use my powers, the stronger I am and the longer I live,” Lydia said. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Using this will basically make me immortal. I’ll outlive all of you.”

"Oh. Shit.”

"Yup.”

"So what are you going to do?” Boyd asked, easy like she had a choice.

“Use it! I have to. If I don’t, then their sacrifice was for nothing!” She hated that she was shouting, especially at Boyd of all people. She pulled over to the side of the road and slammed the car into park so she could wipe at the tears that had started to escape her. “God, I’m sorry. I know you’re dealing with a lot too.”

“Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t have asked unless I was in a position to talk about it,” Boyd said, reaching out to rub her back. “I’m just sorry I can’t help more.”

“You’re not supposed to. It’s my choice in the end,” Lydia said, forcing herself to sit up. She froze when she saw who was standing outside in the headlights of her car. “Boyd.”

Jennifer smiled and folded her arms across her chest.        

“That’s bad,” Boyd said.

“Yup.”

“Call…someone. Get them here,” Lydia said.

“Wait, what are you going to do?” Boyd asked even as he started to pull out his phone.

“Distract her,” Lydia said. She grabbed the journal out of her purse and stepped out of the car.

“So I guess you know the truth now, since I felt you open the journal last night,” Jennifer said.

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “So what’s the plan then?”

“I’m not Peter Hale. I don’t run my mouth and ruin my chances over something as mundane as ego,” Jennifer said. “I’m going to kill you, Lydia, before you become too much trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Lydia said. If there was one thing she was good at, it was faking confidence and hiding weakness.

The car door slammed shut and she looked to see Boyd jogging towards them.

"Done calling your pack?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t hang around if I were you,” Boyd said.

“Please. I’ve killed many a werewolf pack in my day,” Jennifer said with an eye roll.

“Yeah, but we’re not an average pack,” Lydia said as her mind raced through a possible way to get out of it. “You get your power from these sacrificial murders right? I wonder now what stands up to the power I’ve been given willingly.”

Jennifer’s lips twitched into a frown.

“There’s a reason Electra made sure the power in here was given willingly,” Lydia said, Jennifer’s reaction was on the right track. “So let’s figure out who’s stronger.”       

Jennifer’s frown turned to a scowl and the next moment, Boyd dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Lydia grabbed his shoulder, focusing and tugging energy from the journal to push into Boyd and force Jennifer’s dark energy out. When she looked back at Jennifer, there was rust colored chain connecting her to Boyd. Lydia grabbed the chain, crying out when pain lanced up her arm. She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip. She yanked on it, shattering the connection.

The next moment, before either of them could move, Jackson and Erica spilled out of the forest alongside the road. No one moved and when Lydia looked up, she could see the calculating look in Jennifer’s eyes. She took a deep breath and squeezed Boyd’s shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Of course,” Boyd said.

She clenched her jaw, seeking out the link that bound her to Scott and Derek. The thrumming pulse of their energy radiated through her. She latched onto it and pulled into her, biting the inside of her cheek as she pushed their energy back into Boyd. Dimly, she was aware of her knees hitting the pavement, but the pain barely registered. Jennifer flung a hand out to stop Boyd from moving as he lunged to his feet and sprinted across the pavement. Lydia could see the rust colored chain reaching towards him, but the energy she’d given him cradled him like a cocoon.

Boyd slid to a halt as he reached her, but then his hand lashed out to curl through her hair. He tossed her to the other side of the road as Jackson and Erica knelt at Lydia’s side. She pushed herself up only to have her arms give out. Jackson caught her, hauling her backwards so she could lean against his chest.

“You’re glowing again,” Erica said. “And your hair is all…” She waved her hands and then reached out to start smooth Lydia’s hair down.

“Jennifer?” Lydia gasped out.

“Gone,” Boyd said as he jogged over to them. “She ran away.”

“Good.” She closed her eyes and grabbed Jackson’s arm. “Can you drive us?”

“Yeah, I got it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and she let herself go limp.

 

-.-

 

Allison tapped out a quick response on her phone to Boyd before handing her book to Stiles. “Jennifer ambushed Lydia and Boyd. They’re okay but…we’re running out of time.”

“Wait, Jennifer just…” Stiles trailed off.

“She ran away,” Allison said.

"She’s playing a longer game,” Chris said. “Maybe Lydia did enough to make taking them out too much of a risk.”

“How we coming on that list Harris?” Stiles asked.

“Just a few questions for you, Stiles,” Adrian said, setting the book down in his lap. “How many years back did the pattern of deaths go?”

“I reached seventy years,” Stiles said.

“Don’t Deaton say Beacon Hills has a ton of energy? Like a node or whatever?” Isaac asked.

“That’s right,” Adrian said. “Repeated sacrifices at a spot like this helps tie the Darach to the land, so they can use the energy and call upon even more effectively.”

“Is there a point to this lecture?” Stiles asked.

Adrian glared at him before continuing. “Having such a sustained and constant tying to the energy and the earth here will give her a massive amount of power, and there’s only one deity on this list that would require that amount of strength.”

“And?” Isaac asked.

“It’s Death. She’s summoning Death.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia stops Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to being done. I'm feeling a lot of things right now. Everything is changing.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

“Well, at least she had the courtesy to try and summon Death on the weekend,” Allison said as she worked Lydia’s hair into loose braids.

Lydia groaned against Allison’s stomach in response. They were up in Allison’s room, stretched out on her bed with Lydia’s head resting on her stomach as a pillow. She still felt exhausted from what she’d done to scare Jennifer off. Jackson and Erica were downstairs with Chris, protection while they waited to move to Derek’s. Melissa and John were being rounded up by Stiles, Danny, Boyd, and Isaac. It felt like they were all circling the wagons.

“I can’t do this,” Lydia said.

“Yes you can,” Allison said. “And hopefully you won’t even have to. We’ll come up with a plan Lydia, and you won’t have to use that power.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Lydia said, rolling onto her back and shifting her head to Allison’s thigh.

Allison sat up and started unwinding the braids. “What do you mean.”

“Electra was the best of the best. I could _feel_ that. I’ve never shown up when someone wasn’t dead or dying. She was never wrong about what she saw,” Lydia said. “And even if I had a choice…” She looked over at Allison’s desk where the journal sat. “I can’t waste the sacrifice made.”

"But I…”

Lydia looked back up, sitting up when she realized Allison was starting to cry. “Allison…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Allison said, taking a shaky breath and wiping her eyes. “Just…I love you, you know? You’re my girlfriend, and yes I know there’s all these multiple relationships with the pack, but I…I can’t lose you Lydia. I can’t lose anyone else.”

"Fuck…” Lydia grabbed Allison’s hands, holding them between hers before leaning forward and pressing their lips together. “I love you too, Allison. It’s why I’m so scared of this. I don’t want to outlive you, but I can’t let the sacrifice of so many people go to waste. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

“I know,” Allison said, pressing her forehead to Lydia’s. “I just wish I could be selfish.”

“I used to be so good at that,” Lydia said with a small smile. “What happened?”

“We grew up too fast,” Allison said.

There was a knock on the door and Allison leaned back enough to give whoever it was permission to come in. Chris stepped inside.

“We need to go,” Chris said. “Lydia, do you still remember how to use the weapons Allison taught you to use?”

"Yeah, mostly,” Lydia said as she stood up.

Chris unbuckled his gun holster and handed it over, gun and all. “Hopefully we won’t need them but I feel better if we’re all armed.”

“I think my banshee powers are more effective but I’m not going to say no to fire power,” Lydia said.

“And Allison. I want you in the back seat with this,” Chris said. He stepped out into the hallway and returned to the room with some type of sniper weapon.

“That’s an M16. I mean, I know I’m trained but isn’t it a little much?” Allison asked.

“With a Darach, it’s probably just enough to slow her down,” Chris said. “Come on. We’re stronger in numbers and the longer we’re separated from the rest of the pack, the more danger we’re in.”

 

-.-

 

Melissa sat down in the lazy boy chair in Scott’s room at the Hale house, her body a harsh line of tension. Scott felt like he was floundering. He wanted to make it better, run away from everything he’d brought on both of them.

“It’s nice here,” Melissa said. “I can see why you spend so much time here.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry. For all this.”

“Scott, no,” Melissa said, shaking her head. “This isn’t your fault. This is all horrible and exhausting and I’ve probably cried more in the last day than I have in several years, but it’s not your fault. It’s not the fault of any of you. I know you’re doing your best.”

“Obviously it’s not enough,” Scott said, staring down at his hands. “I’m not good at this. I’m an Alpha now and the last thing I want to do is lead anyone.”

Melissa stood up and crossed the room to stand before him and wrap her arms around his shoulders. Scott slumped forward and pressed his face against her stomach. Leaning on Derek, having Derek’s support, that helped. It wasn’t the same as a hug from his mom.

"I can’t do this,” he whispered, hands twisting in her shirt as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You don’t have to. You and your friends have all gone through a lot, Scott,” Melissa said. “More than other kids your age. You’re still a kid though. No one’s asking you to be a leader just because your biology thinks you’ll be a good one. You have to do what’s best for you, Scott. You’re the most selfless person I know, but sometimes you have to put yourself first and let yourself recover. You don’t have to give 100% right now. It can wait.”

“What if I…what if I don’t want any of it. What if I want to move and never come back?” Scott asked, chest loosening once the words were out of him.

“I think that’s a pretty realistic desire,” she said. She pulled back and made Scott look up at her. “Let’s get through this. Then we’ll talk.”           

She had a point. Any discussion of what to do in the future when they might die in several hours. It was scary how used to that feeling Scott was getting.

 

-.-

 

“I don’t see why we haven’t tried to figure out a counter ritual,” Derek said.

“Because an effective counter ritual would require time we don’t have,” Deaton said. “She has been working at this for essentially a century. We’d need the same amount of time.”

Isaac leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the kitchen table. “What even is the point of summoning Death?”

"Death is a passive power,” Adrian said. “It eats our energy and that’s why we die of old age. It’s an energetic existence that exists but doesn’t act. Summoning it fully into our world will allow her to wield its power indiscriminately and unchecked, and it's something only banshees could ever hope to do. Druids and Darachs on their own don't have the ability to summon it because they haven't descended from Death the way banshees have.”

“So, what, Jennifer has a death wish for the whole world?” Isaac asked. “Why?”

“Banshees are essentially immortal, or at least have the potential to be,” Derek said. “Being around as long as she has, maybe she’s become too cold and sees everyone’s existence as pointless.”

“The motive doesn’t matter,” Adrian said. “We need an actual plan instead of just hoping Lydia will have enough power to beat her with sheer force of will.”

“Couldn’t we rebind Death?” Stiles asked as he and Danny entered the kitchen.

“In your delay, we’ve already gone over the fact that we don’t have enough time,” Adrian said.

“My delay was to take care of my dad and get him settled here, so whatever.” Stiles sat down next to Stiles while Danny hung around near the entryway. “What if we set up a ritual to trap him and Lydia uses the journal to make it happen? That amount of power could make up for the lack of time, right?”

"It’s not a bad idea,” Deaton said. “Lydia is in possession of unprecedented power. The usual rules couldn’t possible apply.”

“I guess I can try and come up with something,” Adrian said. “It will have to be a new ritual entirely given that it’s going to be a power other rituals couldn’t handle.”

“Danny, Stiles, and I can help you create it,” Deaton said. “Derek, is there a location we could use here? A physical location we could bind Death to?”

“The basement is still a dungeon. That’s as good a place as any other,” Derek said.

“Oh good, I get to live in a house on top of Death,” Isaac said.

"Or maybe we’ll all die and you won’t have to,” Stiles said as he and the others headed out of the room.

Derek waited until they were gone before stepped over to Isaac.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” Isaac said, bringing his feet back down to sit in his chair properly. “What are we doing? This isn’t fighting. This is magic and luck and I feel useless.”

Derek leaned back on the table, his knee pressing up along Isaac’s thigh. “I wish I could lead here, but I’m like you in this. All I have is my brute strength, but I think Jennifer is too strong for us just to beat down.”

Isaac put his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. “I just want this to be over. I want to be with you, with our pack, and be safe for once instead of fighting for our lives every day.”          

“Maybe after this we’ll be okay,” Derek said. He pushed his fingers through Isaac’s hair. “And maybe after you all graduate, we’ll find somewhere else to live.”

Isaac looked up. “You’d do that?”

Derek glanced around the room before his gaze settled back on Isaac. “This place means a lot to me, but the safety of my pack needs to start coming first. _You_ need to start coming first.”

Isaac stood up and gave in to his urge to hug Derek close. Part of it was neediness. The other part…fear. “I love you. Even if we stay, you have to know that.”

“I know. I love you too.” Derek held him close and pressed a tight kiss to his temple. “We’ll get out of this. “I’ll make sure of it.”

           

-.-

 

Boyd wasn’t surprised to see Erica and Jackson joining him outside. There wasn’t much to really patrol. On their own, it wasn’t like they could hold Jennifer back or protect themselves. Pacing around the property was better than standing still.”

“Everyone here?” Boyd asked.

Erica linked her arm with one of Boyd’s as they walked. “Yup. I guess they’re trying to figure out how to counter Jennifer’s summoning.”

“It’s weird, not being able to do anything,” Jackson said, kicking at twigs and leaves as they walked.

“What did Lydia even do to you, Boyd?” Erica asked.

“It was weird, it was like…you know when we all first changed? That surge of power we felt? It was like that but more, like I was completely protected, like I was…invulnerable,” Boyd said.

“That had to be a nice change,” Jackson said.

Boyd looked over at him, the understanding in Jackson’s eyes helping settle him. “Yeah…”

Erica stopped and looked back towards the house. “I’m going to go back to the house to talk to Scott. Don’t stay out too long. I think we might be safer inside for once.”

“That was strangely abrupt,” Jackson said as Erica walked away.

“I think she thinks we were having a moment,” Boyd said.

“We kind of were.”

Boyd ducked his head as they started walking again. “Do you think it’s weird? Us getting close like this.”

“I mean…you’re not the people I saw myself hanging out with going into my senior year,” Jackson said. “But I’m glad this is where I am. I mean, this shit sucks. What we went through sucks. Fighting for our lives every few weeks _also_ sucks. But…without all of that I wouldn’t be me. I’d just be a repressed douchebag.”

Boyd didn’t respond right away, thinking over the words. “I guess…I pretty much see it the same way.”

“So what I’m saying is maybe it’s not what I expected, but it’s better than where I was. That means something,” Jackson said.

"You’re a pretty good guy. Didn’t think that way for awhile but…yeah. This is good,” Boyd said.

Jackson nudged his side. “Erica’s right though. We should head back.”

Boyd let him lead the way.

 

-.-

 

“Hey. What are you doing in my room?” Erica asked as she climbed through her bedroom window.

Scott was stretched out on her bed, face buried in her usual pile of pillows. He turned his face to look at her, offering a tired smile. “My mom’s in my room. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah, we haven’t hung out in a while,” Erica said, crawling up onto the bed with him. She curled up against him and slung an arm over his lower back. “How are you?”

Scott turned his face to look the opposite direction. “I can’t do this right now, Erica.”

“Hey,” she said. “I’m not asking for you to support me. You’ve always been a person for me to lean on, but it shouldn’t be one way. And you know I’m the last person to judge you.”

She let the words hang between them, letting her fingers walk up and down his spine. He relaxed slowly between breaths and Erica relaxed with him. She’d relied on her pack a last the last year or so. It was comforting to know she could bring them the comfort they brought her, empowering even. She wasn’t an Alpha Female. She wasn’t powerful in her humanity like Allison. But she could do this, hold Scott, be soft and nurture him like she had with Boyd.

“I don’t know if I can stay in this situation much longer,” Scott said, voice quiet. “And it’s not just losing my dad, it’s all of it. I’ve felt pretty on my own for a while now.”

He turned on his side away from Erica and she didn’t hesitate to spoon up against him.

“We’ve all felt that way,” she mumbled against the back of his neck. “Allison did. I did. Stiles did. Jackson, more than any of us. We have your back though Scott, we all do. I just think it’s too scary for you still to try and rely on us, but I promise we’re here for you.”

“I know.” Scott twined his fingers with hers where they rested on his stomach. “I guess we’ll see.”

           

-.-

 

“This is probably the last time. I do this,” Danny said.

Stiles looked up from where he was copying the diagram Adrian had given them to etch out in chalk on the cement floor. “Yeah?”

Danny shrugged. “I love you, Stiles. A lot. But I can’t keep risking my life when shit gets like this.”

“I get it.” Stiles got to his feet, dusting off his hands. “And I love you too. I know that. But I couldn’t handle it if you go hurt again because of me, so it’s probably good that we broke up.”

“Yeah…” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “I really want to kiss you right now though, you in, in case everyone dies tonight.”

Stiles snorted. “I guess that answers my question then.” He stepped over to Danny.

“And what’s that?”

“Whether or not I’m attractive to gay guys,” Stiles said, lips twitching up in a smile.

Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot Stiles. And very bisexual.”

“Whatever.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around Danny’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. He threw himself into it too, and not just because of the whole life or death situation either. He knew what he was throwing away. He knew Danny was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him, but he also knew that after everything he’d sacrificed, he wouldn’t be able to give up the pack. Not for Danny. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to know they wouldn’t be together.

Danny pulled back, hands framing Stiles’ face. “We should probably go.”

“One more for luck,” Stiles said, and pulled him down one more time.

 

-.-

 

Scott watched as Derek flicked on the overhead light of the large kitchen table, illuminating the large map of Beacon Hills. Most of the pack was gathered behind him, the table rimmed by Lydia, Deaton, Adrian, Stiles, Allison, Scott, and their parents. Stiles circled a spot on the map in black sharpie where the Hale House was and then after a moment of looking at his phone, marked another spot deep in the woods with an ‘x’.

“That’s where the last kill has to be,” Stiles said. “At least if she’s still following the same pattern she’s had for the last century or so.”

“And it is tonight, right, we didn’t get that wrong?” Chris asked.

“Yup, it’s definitely tonight,” Stiles said.

“So what’s the plan?” John asked, glancing around at them.

“We don’t really do plans,” Stiles said, meeting his dad’s gaze and giving a strained smile. “Usually we just wing it.”

John sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “No wonder you haven’t done that great on your own. Alright, so what do we know about this Darach. What kind of damage can be done to her?”

"Well, I used the journal to give Boyd power to fight her off. I don’t think he could’ve killed her, but it stopped her from being able to drain him,” Lydia said. “I probably shouldn’t waste anymore of the journal’s power though.”

“What about me then?” Scott asked.

“What?” Stiles asked.

Scott didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t, not with what he was about to suggest. “I’m a True Alpha now. It means I’m more powerful than any other werewolf. Lydia could take power from me and give it to all of you. It should be enough to keep you safe, right Deaton?”

Deaton’s gaze was hard when Scott looked up at him. “Scott, lending your pack that sort of power could break you. You might not be an Alpha by the end of it.”

“So?” His mom reached out, covering his hand with her own and he spared her a quick look before looking at Derek. “Maybe I could be a good Alpha, and maybe you’re not the best one in the world, but we aren’t a normal pack now and we’re never going to be. Maybe it’s better if I give up my powers anyways, and if it helps us save the world than that’s even better.”

“Scott, all you ever wanted was not to be a part of Derek’s pack,” Stiles said. “Since the beginning. Being a True Alpha gives you that chance.”

“That’s…not what I want,” Scott said. “I’ve always wanted to be normal, and this…this has become my new normal and I’m okay with it. And I’m okay with giving up some useless powers if it means my friends are safe because it’s never been about power, not for me.”

"Do we even know if it’s enough?” Isaac asked from where he stood behind Derek.

Scott looked at Lydia. “Could you check?”

“Um, sure…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again. She stared right at Scott and he could feel the light tug of her pulling at his energy, pulling it into herself, before she gasped and the connection snapped all at once. “That…that’s a lot. I didn’t notice when I pulled power from you earlier but that is…Scott, you could be great with that, you could-“

“I couldn’t do anything if we were all dead,” Scott said. “I’m doing this. You can use my energy to protect the pack and go up against Jennifer.”

“The most you’ll be able to do, even if you’re protected, is distract her,” Adrian said. “She has immeasurable power right now. I assume the only reason she didn’t bother to kill me when you showed up Lydia, was because it was quicker just to find a new target.”

“If we can distract her long enough to rebind Death, that’s all we need,” Stiles said.

“Right, so taking that all into consideration,” John said. “Lydia does whatever magic thing to all the werewolves. Scott can stay back with us, because I doubt he’ll be in a fighting mood with you draining his energy. Lydia, where’s the best place for you to be?”

“I mean, I’m still all new to this so I should probably be close to Jennifer,” Lydia said. “That puts me in the most danger, but she’ll have Death’s power inside her right? She’ll be using it.”

Adrian nodded. “You’ll have to pull it from her and push it to us to bind it under the house. Myself, Deaton, Danny, and Stiles will act as the barriers for you to work through.”

“Why can’t me and John do the same?” Melissa asked.

“Well, you _could,_ ” Adrian said. “It’s just the four of us were the best for it due to our various contact with magical powers. We’re more receptive to it.”

“Would it work better if we helped?” John asked.

“Dad, no,” Stiles said.

“And why not?” John asked. “You kids risk your lives all the time, and we’re your parents. That’s supposed to be what _we_ do. We’re not going to let you do this without us, not this time.”

"What he said,” Melissa said with a smile.

Scott squeezed her fingers between his. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

“So what about me and my dad?” Allison asked.

"The pack will be a good distraction for her,” Deaton said. “But she’s been planning this too long not to have some sort of backup plan. My guess is she’ll attack us on two fronts; head on and from behind, where the rest of us are. Stiles, Danny, and myself are all trained in fighting and I did bring along the weapons we are trained in, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more fire power on our side. It is probably best if you stay with us.”

“Good,” Allison said. “I wanted a chance to use that M16.”

“You’ll likely be dealing with corpses,” Adrian said. “So guns will be of little use. You’ll want something sharp.”

“Wait, why corpses?” Lydia asked.

“You’re both banshees. Your command of death is what allows you to raise it in the first place when no other druid or Darach could ever hope to,” Adrian said. “The sacrifices she’s made has tied her to those bodies as well as their energy so she’s capable of reanimating them, even if she can’t bring them back to life.”

“Well that’s thoroughly disgusting,” Stiles said.

“It’s okay,” Chris said. “I brought as close to our armory as I could. We’ll provide decent back up.”

“So if that’s it, we should start moving,” Derek said. “Lydia, do you think you could wrap the power around us now so Jennifer can’t take us by surprise?”

"Yeah,” Lydia said. She looked over at Scott. “If you’re ready.”

Scott nodded and let go of his mom’s hand. “I’m ready.”

 

-.-

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Derek said.

Scott was stretched out on the cement floor in the basement, tucked away in a backroom where Stiles and the others could protect him if he couldn’t protect himself. Lydia and Derek were the only ones with him.

“No, I want to,” Scott said. “Really.”

“Does it make you unhappy?” Derek asked, kneeling by his head. “Us? The pack?”

“I…don’t know anymore,” Scott said. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“If you do this, you might not have a choice,” Derek said.

Scott’s lips twisted into a smile. “Derek, I haven’t ever made a real choice in all of this. I was turned against my will. I allied with you the first time because I had no one else to turn to it and it was the only way to save my own life and protect Lydia. I’m used to not having choices.”

"I’m sorry,” Derek said, and Scott pushed himself upright again, twisting so he could make Derek look at him. “I’ve tried to be good enough but I never was, and I think your wolf sensed that and that’s why we’re in this two alpha shit to begin with.”  

“Derek, I stopped being angry at you a long time ago,” Scott said. “Neither of us have had much of a choice in how this plays out. Maybe after this…maybe we’ll finally be able to make our own choices. All of us.”

Derek stared at him, his gaze searching, and Scott wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find what he wanted, so he leaned forward and kissed him instead. For a moment, Derek didn’t move. Then, with a soft sigh, he let his lips part as his hand came up to rest along Scott’s jaw. It was a short kiss, not even really romantic in nature. Maybe Scott just didn’t want to feel like he was going in without his support.

“Alright, Lydia,” Scott said, laying back down. “Go ahead.”

Lydia knelt beside him and pressed her hand to his chest. He could feel it when she first started pulling on his energy, a deep tug that was fine at first but it quickly descended into pain and he couldn’t help the way his fangs and claws began to elongate, the instinct to try and heal the loss of power taking over. Derek cradled his head, keeping him still, and it was enough to keep him calm. He could feel himself replenishing the energy Lydia took, but the constant drain felt like knives through his veins.

“How much more?” he managed to grit out between tight teeth.

“I’ve only done Erica and Boyd, you have to hold on,” she said.

He tried to keep still but he couldn’t help the harsh cry that ripped out of him. He was dimly aware of Derek saying something, but he couldn’t focus passed the pain to decipher the words. It was almost purifying, the pain. It wasn’t just his power being sucked out. His power was shielding his pack, protecting them from harm. That knowledge alone was enough to make the pain easier to shoulder. He lost himself in the feeling, not letting himself think too hard and just accepting what was being done. It had been a long time since he’d let go like that.

The pull eased up, but it didn’t disappear completely. He opened his eyes slowly, surprised to see a faint white glow radiating around Lydia.

“I have to keep connected to you,” she said. “In case they need more, and in case the shields fade with time.”

“That’s fine,” Scott said, his voice rough. “I mean, it hurts but I seem to be regenerating whatever you take.”

“We should hurry then,” Derek said. “Scott, are you going to be okay on your own?”

Scott smiled up at him. “Do I really have a choice?”

“Right, good point,” Derek said.

“Good luck,” Scott called as they got to their feet. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Lydia wouldn’t look at him.

 

-.-

 

Stiles shoved the two daggers into the extra utility belt Allison had brought with her. His staff was leaning against the tunnel wall. Danny was closer to Adrian and Melissa, a last line of defense and safer from any potential damage, with Chris, John, and Deaton manning the other side of the tunnel so there wouldn’t be any surprises.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Allison asked as she shoved another knife in her boot sheath. Stiles was starting to wonder just how many knives she carried at any one time. There was a sword strapped to her side as well, not the broadsword her grandfather had wielded but something smaller and lighter. “I mean, they’ll be corpses but they’ll still look like people.”

“You mean they used to be people and I’m going to be fighting for my life again,” Stiles said, grabbing the staff and holding it in his hands.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“But if you aren’t,” she said. “If after this you start feeling bad again, like you should be guilty…”

Stiles swallowed and looked over at her. “Then I’ll come to you. I’m not going to go through it on my own again, I promise. Believe me, I don’t want to.”

The ground rumbled, cutting off whatever response Allison could’ve given.

“What is it?” John called.

“I think we can safely assume Jennifer has started to raise Death,” Adrian yelled back as the ground continued to shake.

The few lights that were scattered down the length of the tunnel began to flicker out one by one, coming closer and closer. Adrian cursed behind them and Stiles could hear a match being lit and a moment later, the distinct smell of herbs burning reached his nose. A moment later, the lights flickered back on.

"She knows where we are,” Adrian said. “She’s going to try and get us in the dark and I should be able to hold her back but be prepared just in case.”

“Even better,” Stiles said.

It was impossible to see all the way down the hall, but the sound of footsteps began to echo down towards them. Stiles twisted the hinges of his staff and let it break into its three separate pieces. Moments later, a figure sprinted out of the darkness. Allison moved first, hurling a knife at it and striking the man straight between his eyes with a dull thud. He stumbled a moment but then raced even faster towards them.

For a brief moment, Stiles felt like he was frozen. The man looked nothing like Streiter. He was vaguely familiar, undoubtedly because of how long he’d searched through the files of Jennifer’s victims, and yet he couldn’t convince himself to move. Another figure emerged from the shadows and Allison left his side, sprinting towards it.

“Stiles!” Melissa shouted.

The fear in her voice was enough to snap him out of his stupor and he lunged forward just in time to catch the man’s throat on the chains that connected the segmented pieces of his staff together. He swung the staff around, grasping the two pieces in one hand and hauling the man to the side and bashing his skull against the side of the tunnel with a wet thunk. His skull gave way like kicking a half decayed pumpkin, but his hands still reached for Stiles’ throat.

He stepped back and then released the staff, letting it unwind from the man’s neck before spinning on his heel and dealing a roundhouse kick to his face and sending him sprawling. Stiles leapt on top of him before he could reorient himself, hooking the chain under his neck and digging his knee into the fleshy spine and pulling. His knee sunk into a sick squelch of muscle and flesh but he ignored it, yanking back as hard as he could and bending the man’s neck so far that if he had been human, it would’ve broken long ago.

The pressure of the chain wasn’t enough.

Stiles looked up, eyes lighting on the sword in its sheath at Allison’s side. She was fighting another corpse of her own, but it was more of a grapple. He lunged to his feet, whipping the sword out and turning on his heel to bring it down and sever the man’s head. The man went entirely limp. His stomach rolled but he didn’t let himself think too hard about what he’d done, instead turning back towards Allison who was holding the other man off with one hand and grasping at her side for the sword. Stiles shoved it into her hand and she shouted as she threw the man fully off and whipped the sword up to sever its head.

“Severing heads works,” Stiles shouted down the tunnel.

“We’ve noticed,” John shouted back.

Danny jogged over to him, another sword in hand. “I got it from the trunk by Melissa. Just in case.”

“Great,” Stiles said. “How many more of these can we expect?”

“Well, how many has she killed over the years Stiles?” Adrian asked.

Stiles nodded. “Right. Of course.”

 

-.-

 

The ground began to rumble and for a moment, Lydia and the rest of the pack froze. They weren’t far from where the next sacrifice was, or probably already had given that they had all scented blood awhile back.

“We should hurry,” Derek said, turning to look at her.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I’ll come to you.”

Lydia didn’t get a chance to say a word as Jennifer materialized behind Derek, hand rearing back before smashing into the side of Derek’s head and sending him flying through the air. Boyd managed to catch him, holding him steady. She could feel the energy pouring off of Jennifer, they all could, and when she concentrated all she could see was deep brown and red energy saturating the ground and covering Jennifer’s body.            

“Why are you doing this?” Lydia asked as the pack fanned out.

“Really, Lydia?” Jennifer asked. She made no move to advance on them. “After everything I’ve showed you, you still have to wonder why?”

“Oh my God, no one really cares,” Erica said.

She and Isaac both moved forward at the same time. Jennifer snarled as Erica tackled her and Lydia closed her eyes, bracing herself against the nearest tree and clutching the journal to her chest as she reached back towards Scott, using herself to connect his power to Erica and flood her with it. She did it just in time too, for the next moment Jennifer kicked Erica off. She let out a pained howl as she hit the ground, clutching her side as she struggled to get to her feet. Isaac managed to sink his claws into her stomach, leaving a gaping wound, before Jennifer threw him off too.

Jennifer staggered to her feet, the wound healing even as she clutched at it. “You’re stronger than you should be, but I have Death on my side now.”

She flung her hand out and Jackson collapsed to the ground, clutching at his throat. Boyd and Derek both lunged for her but with a flick of her wrist, they were on their knees too, struggling to breath and writhing on the ground. Lydia sunk her nails into the rough bark, finger tips bleeding as she pulled more and more power from Scott. She could feel his pain but she didn’t let it stop her, feeding the energy into the rest of the pack until finally, their energy shields were strong enough to hold up to Jennifer’s power.

“You robbed people of their lives to get that power,” Lydia said. “What I have is better. What I have is freely given, and it’s the power of a man who is willing to give up everything he is to protect his pack. You don’t want to protect anything.”

“Why should I?” Jennifer shouted. “Why should you, Lydia? You’ve felt what I’ve felt. That was my vase you pulled the memories from. There is no _Gwen_. It’s always been me!”

Lydia ripped herself away from the tree. “So that gives you the right to murder people for hundreds of years? To summon Death and try and kill us all?”

“Well you should all suffer like I have,” Jennifer said, striding across the ground and shoving Lydia back against the tree. “And you will Lydia, I tried to make you see that.”

She struck the tree and Lydia screamed as the whole thing shook and then shattered. She pulled again at Scott and flung her hand up, a shield of white light shooting from her finger tips and she watched, surprised as the whole tree evaporated as the light touched it. Jennifer stepped back from her, lips twisted in a smirk.

"You’re going to kill him if you keep that up,” she said.

“Then how about you stop?” Lydia asked. “I felt what you felt, I felt that loneliness and God, it hurts. But it’s not enough to do this.”

“No? You only felt a fraction of what I felt,” Jennifer said. She looked down at the crumpled forms of the pack. “I could take them all away from you. Maybe then you’d start to understand.”

Lydia grit her teeth, pulling energy from the journal and casting it over her prone pack mates. “You will not hurt them.”

“You’d use the power given to help you stop me to save them?” Jennifer asked.

“I can do both,” Lydia said.

“You do know what that will do to you, don’t you?” Jennifer asked, advancing on Lydia once more.

Lydia didn’t move, staring back up at her. “Yes. Of course I do.”

"No, you don’t,” Jennifer said, reaching out with one hand to brush against Lydia’s hair before twisting her fist in it and yanking Lydia’s head back. “You think, oh, I’ll be alone, and sad, and gosh, I’ll even want to die. But that’s not the worst of it.”

“Then tell me what is,” Lydia said, voice soft as fear rose in her chest. “What happens after all of that?”

“You become like me,” Jennifer said, releasing her and stepping back again. “Years will pass and you’ll watch your pack die, you’ll watch your family die. Maybe you’ll start over and have a new family. They’ll die too. And even when you try to end it, you’ll never be able to because we are the children of Death and Death has never been a fan of eating that which it spawns. The more we use its power, the more it wants to spit us back out, and you Lydia, you’ll have to use more power than any of us have to stop your creator. Maybe you’ll stop me, but you’ll never die Lydia.”

"So I’ll become you,” Lydia said. She took a deep breath as a few tears escaped her eyes. “I’ll become so miserable that I…”

“You’ll do what I am now,” she said. “Maybe you’ll prolong it, but if you do, you’ll be standing in my shoes and someone else will be standing in yours.”

Lydia looked down at her pack and then to Jennifer. “Yeah, except you missed something in that logic of yours.”

“What?”

“I’m stronger than you,” Lydia said. “Fine, Death rejects me? Death rejects you? Then I’ll reject Death.” She strode forward and grabbed Jennifer by her jacket, using the brief moment of surprise to throw her to the ground. “You said we’re the children of Death right?”

“What are you doing?” Jennifer reached for the journal but Lydia tossed it aside, casting out a line of her own energy to keep her connected to it.

"Your power comes from Death, Jennifer. You’re soaked in it,” Lydia said. “But mine doesn’t. And I can take Death’s power out of all of us.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jennifer snarled, heaving up against her. “You can’t!”

Lydia hauled the power of the journal into her, more than she had before. It poured into her, pulling her up and away, hovering off the ground and away from Jennifer. Jennifer lunged to her feet and flung her energy out towards her. Lydia reached out and latched onto it with her hand, the pain of it taking her by surprise.

“No!” Jennifer shouted.

Lydia clung to the chain connecting them, mouth opening in a scream as she pulled Death out of Jennifer and into herself. It felt like it was too much, like she wasn’t strong enough, but the more energy she pulled from the journal, the easier it became. Jennifer fell to her knees as Lydia pulled, gasping for breath.

“If you do this, there will be none of us left!” Jennifer shouted. “You’ll be killing off the last of your sisters!”

“Robbing them of their power isn’t the same as killing them,” Lydia said.

"That’s what Electra thought and she nearly wiped us off the map!” Jennifer spat.

“Then that’s just a risk I’m going to have to take!”

Lydia cried out as she pulled the rest of Jennifer’s power out of her, watching as Jennifer collapsed unconscious, or perhaps dead, onto the ground. Her relief didn’t last long though. She could feel Death inside of her, its roiling power. For a moment, she felt like a god, stronger and more capable than anyone else in the world, because really, she was. With the combined powers of Death and of her sisters before her, she could truly do anything, master any one, any country, any continent.

Or, she could lock it all away, the power of her sisters, the power of death, her own power, bury it deep beneath the world where it belonged. She closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing through the pain until she located the sigil the others had so carefully created. She could see them fighting in the tunnels, corpses clogging their pathway back to the circle where they needed to be, where she needed them to be if she was going to bind the power completely.

She reached out with the power and with a mere thought, the corpses Jennifer had risen from the dead evaporated out of existence. She watched as Allison and Stiles exchanged a look with Danny before racing to the circle. She watched as they joined hands, all of them, watched them create a link, a gate, just for her. Just for her sisters, returned finally to their creator.

Lydia released the energy, sending it to the gate as she wailed into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left.

[The tumblr](http://www.schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Scott woke up in his bed. The room was dim, the curtains drawn over the harsh sunlight of morning. His whole body ached, a deep throb that radiated out from the center of his chest and spread through his limbs. He forced himself upright to look around the room. Melissa was asleep in the lazy boy, a blanket draped over her body.

“Mom?”

She started awake, throwing off the blanket and getting to her feet. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, well, I’m in pain but what’s new,” he said, leaning into her when she pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Yeah…” She hugged him close and he slumped against her. “We did it though. Lydia managed to bind Death.”

“Oh, good.” Scott reached out to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Derek said he wanted to talk with you when you woke up though,” she said. “I can go get him if you want. If you want to go back to sleep though, you can do that too, you deserve a few extra hours if you want it.”

Scott pulled away and leaned forward on his knees. “No, it’s fine. We’re all alive. I can sleep all I want later.”

Melissa gave a small smile and then kissed the top of his head before leaving the room. Scott flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to breath past the pain. He couldn’t really remember the night before. He remembered Lydia first shielding the pack but once she’d started pulling more and more energy from him, he hadn’t been able to handle the pain and all he could remember now was a distant feeling of his energy being drained.

Maybe that was for the better though. He’d dealt with enough the last few days, and it was about time his memory started protecting him.

The door opened and Derek stepped through, Melissa following after and shutting the door once more. Scott sat up again, bracing himself against the headboard. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Derek look so somber and it made the pain in his body give way to anxiousness.

“I’m not really sure how to say this, Scott,” Derek said.

“More bad news then,” Scott said. “Just get it over with.”

“You’re…not a werewolf anymore. You’re human,” Derek said in a rush.

Silence stretched between them as Scott tried to process the information. Maybe he had just gone through too much the last few days that adding insult to injury didn’t really do anything. But it wasn’t just numbness. It was almost…relief. Relief that the ache in his body was permanent, that it wouldn’t go away in a few hours. He would heal, like a real person. He was free of the pressure that was being a werewolf, the pressure that said he had to constantly put himself in harm’s way because his body was more durable than the bodies of his friends and family.

“Scott?” Melissa asked.

“I…it’s fine,” Scott said. “Really.”

Derek didn’t look surprised. “I figured you would be. But Scott…you’re still pack, okay? Being a werewolf isn’t what makes you valuable.”

“You sure about that?” Scott asked. “Because that’s how it’s felt for a while.”

“Well maybe now you can find that value on your own,” Derek said. “I think…I messed up with you.”

“That is an understatement,” Melissa said, crossing the room to take a seat in the chair.

Derek looked down at the ground. “I know. But one of the things I messed up on was telling you that being a werewolf was the greatest thing that could ever happen to you, and maybe I said that because it’s what I’ve been my whole life. It’s just…I didn’t mean to tie your value to that. Being a werewolf isn’t what makes you a good leader. Being a werewolf isn’t what makes you the person you are.”

Scott closed his eyes, head thunking back against the wall. “I…appreciate it Derek, but I think I just want to be alone now and sleep.”

“That’s fair,” Derek said. “We’ll still be here for you, no matter what. I promise.”

 

-.-

 

Stiles pushed his forkful of pancake around through the mess of syrup on his plate. John sat next to him, doing the same. Isaac and Boyd sat on the other side of the table pushing their food around as well. The sunlight streaming in through the kitchen door and windows made everything feel unreal, like the night before was some sort of weird fever dream they all shared and now they were still trying to wake up. He poked around at his memories of the night before, the feeling of removing people’s heads from their bodies and the sick sound of crunching bones, but it was like poking at scar tissue. There was nothing there to receive any input of sensation.

“How many times did you do stuff like this?” John asked.

Stiles looked over at Isaac and Boyd. “Probably…nine or ten times. You guys probably more.”

“Jesus…” John pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Look, guys, I don’t think you should be doing this.”

“Dad,” Stiles started.

“No, Stiles, let me finish,” John said. “I hate that you kids have the pressure of saving our lives day after day after day. That’s supposed to be _our_ job. The pressure you are under is unimaginable, truly, and last night was my first glimpse of what all of you have had to do on your own for over a year. I hate that it is that way, but I am so…incredibly proud of all of you. What you do is more than anyone else your age.”

Stiles dropped his fork on his plate and slumped against his dad, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

He wanted to say more, but it felt like too much to try and pull all his thoughts into words.

 

-.-

 

Derek sat in the living room on his own, arms folded over his chest. He felt unmoored, knowing Scott was no longer an Alpha, no longer even a werewolf. It wasn’t like that had changed things with Lydia or Allison, the two of them finding their places easily with in the pack even without being werewolves, but he and Scott had never interacted and found their footing with each other when they weren’t both werewolves.

“Hey,” Allison said, collapsing into the couch beside him. Her hair was a mess and she was still in her clothes from the night before. “Lydia’s still asleep.”

"She probably will be for a while.”

Allison stared at the wall and nodded. “Did you tell Scott?”

Derek looked down at his hands. “Yeah. He’s…not taking it that bad.”

“He never wanted this,” Allison said, drawing her knees up to his chest. “And part of me thinks I should be happy now, and a few years ago I would have been but Scott and I…we’re never going to date again, I know that. I love him, and he loves me, but it’s not a romantic thing. I just want him to be happy.”

Derek looked over at her and after a moment she looked back. “Do you think he will be?”

“I think he needs to be himself for a while. I don’t think he’s going to leave though, not really,” Allison said. “He cares about you guys just as much and the fact that he sacrificed what he did should make that clear. Just because he isn’t a werewolf doesn’t mean he’ll leave. He just…needs some time. We all do.”

“I guess you’re right,” Derek said. “I wish I knew what I was doing.”

“We’re getting there,” Allison said. “And honestly? You’re doing a lot better job than you were before.”

“I barely did anything last night,” Derek said. “It came down to what Lydia was capable of because we were all powerless.”

“You’re a werewolf, Derek. You’re not immortal,” Allison said. “No one expects you to be able to handle every danger that decides to come to Beacon Hills.”

“I guess.” Derek shrugged. “Hard not to feel that way when I’m the one who got us all into this mess in the first place. I should be able to protect all of them, no matter what kind of threat there is.”

“I mean, you did get them into it but…” Allison leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “Someone else got you into it too.”

“You mean Peter,” Derek said.

“And Kate. I’m not gonna excuse what she did,” Allison said.

Derek looked back down at his hands, watched them twist together as he thought. “Do you think we should leave Beacon Hills?”

"You mean relocate the pack after we graduate?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Maybe. We’re all going to go to college probably, or at least some of us. Maybe we can worry about a more permanent location after all of that,” she said.

“You sound like you’ve thought about this,” he said.

“I have, a little bit at least,” she admitted. “But only because senior year is next year and it’d be naïve to think we’d survive as a pack without thinking about how it’s going to work when we inevitably have to split up for a while.”

The thought made Derek’s throat tighten. “And you still think we would end up together as a pack, even after that.”

“Of course I do,” Allison said. “I get that we’re kids in age but…honestly? We’ve gone through too much to really be children about all of this. How could we exist in the real world without each other when no one else would ever understand what we went through? And saying that we shouldn’t have gone through it doesn’t change that it did. We have to live with what we went through and the best way to do that…the healthiest way to do that is to do it together. This is a support network for all of us. Even you.”

Derek’s lips quirked up into a smile. “You’ve changed a lot.”

Allison looked up at him and he met her eyes. “Losing most of your family does that to a person.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to go check on Lydia. Try not to mope too much. We’re always going to be here Derek.”

“Yeah.”

Derek watched her leave and then stretched out on the couch to stare up at the ceiling. He hoped she was right.

 

-.-

 

Lydia woke in slow degrees. It was like hauling herself over glass, every step towards awareness sending sharp pains through every nerve until she finally took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. The room was dark, which was good. Her eyes ached and she imagined bright light wouldn’t really make it all that better.

"Hey,” Allison said, crawling up on the bed.

Lydia turned carefully onto her side. “So…we’re alive then?”

“Yup,” Allison said. “And as soon as you’re up for it, Deaton and Adrian want to talk to you and Derek and like…whoever else feels like being conscious.”

“Oh…cool.”

She closed her eyes and then leaned into Allison’s hand when Allison started rubbing a thumb along Lydia’s cheekbone. The simple touch was more soothing than she thought it would be.

“So, you immortal now or what?” Allison asked.

"If I did it right…no. I tried to lock away all the banshee power along with Death,” Lydia said. “Because Adrian said Banshees are the only ones that can summon Death and if I destroyed our connection to Death than…no one can.”

“You’re so god damn brilliant, have I told you that lately?” Allison asked.

Lydia opened her eyes, smiling back when she saw Allison smiling at her. “I just hope it worked.”

"Well I’m with you no matter what. We’ll find out together.”        

Lydia rolled forward and pressed their lips together. “Thank you…”

“Go back to sleep,” Allison said.

“Stay?”

"Of course.”

 

-.-

 

Erica stroked her fingers through Lydia’s hair as the rest of the conscious pack, which was really just Isaac and Derek, filtered in the room. She felt like sleeping too, and her abdomen still ached even though it had mostly healed from the damage Jennifer had done, but she didn’t want to be away from Lydia now that she was awake. She could still remember the way it felt to have Lydia’s energy cloaked over her, protecting her. She wanted to return the favor to some extent.

“So,” Deaton said, standing before where they were all huddled on the couch. Chris stood behind it. “Adrian and I spent the morning running tests on the energy fields throughout town. What we did last night, or what Lydia has done, seems to have permanently altered the way energy flows around here.”

“Well, probably permanent,” Adrian said. “It will be a few years before we know for sure.”

“How does that affect us?” Derek asked.

“Chris, why did the Argents originally target this area?” Deaton asked.

Erica craned her neck to look back at him. Chris frowned.

“Beacon Hills has always been a hotbed for supernatural activity, not just werewolves, but everything,” Chris said.

“It’s like drawing moths to a flame,” Stiles said as he shuffled into the living room and taking a seat on the ground. “That’s what you said earlier. The flaws of energy all converge in this town.”

“Exactly,” Deaton said. “But what Lydia did changed all that. The energy now flows _around_ Beacon Hills. Essentially, this place has become a safe haven from supernatural beings.”

“Wait,” Erica said. “If that’s true, then why are we all still…comfortable here?”

“That’s where all this gets theoretical,” Adrian said. “Lydia, when you bound Death, you bound the powers of all Banshees at the same time. We know because we’ve been contacted the few Banshees we know.”

Lydia’s hand tightened around Erica’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“We understand that,” Deaton said. “In the process though, you’ve bound immense, dark power permanently beneath the town and that is what repels energy and supernatural beings. Our guess is that because it was done by you, and because your pack bonds are so strong, the pack does not feel that repulsive force.”

“So…we’re safe? People will stop trying to come here and kill us?” Isaac asked.

“Well, to some extent,” Deaton said. “There will likely be _some_ hunters, but as long as you keep your heads down, the lack of supernatural activity will keep most hunters away.”

“At least I did that,” Lydia said softly.

“You’ve done a lot Lydia. You should be proud of what you’ve done now,” Deaton said.

“Maybe after another nap,” Lydia said, pushing herself upright.

Isaac and Derek helped her back upstairs and after a brief, hushed discussion Erica didn’t bother to listen in on, Chris, Deaton, and Adrian left too. Which left her and Stiles. Stiles pulled himself up onto the couch and looped an arm over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and slumped against him.

“What do we do now then? If we aren’t constantly fighting for our lives?” Stiles asked.

“It’s going to be a weird adjustment,” she said, tucking her face against his neck.

“Seems nice though.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I guess it does.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale.

_6 Years Later_

“What day are Boyd and Erica getting married?” Lydia asked as she dabbed the side of her toe free of running nail polish.

Allison sighed on the other side of the Skype call and Lydia could hear her flipping through her planner. “June 7th. They’re doing their honeymoon for three weeks after that though so have to plan around that too.”

“Is Isaac still going with them?” Lydia asked. She looked over her toes one last time before turning on her stomach and giving Allison her full attention.

“Naturally,” Allison said. “But I mean, Jackson went with Isaac and Derek on theirs so I’m pretty sure werewolves just aren’t built for monogamy.”

“It is good for tax purposes though,” Lydia said. “And honestly, we aren’t built for it either. Or should I remind you of that hysterical voicemail you left me when you and Derek first started sleeping together.”

Allison flushed. “Not fair. We never talked about if I were to get romantic with another pack member.”

“Still. I’m the last person to care when it comes to other packmates,” Lydia said. “Stop getting me distracted. I don’t really want to have a July wedding. What about August?”

“Doesn’t your second year of grad school start at the end of August?” Allison asked.

“Still gives us a two-week honeymoon,” Lydia said. “Which, by the way, putting my foot down now. Everyone else is banned from our honeymoon. I spend too much time away from you as it is.”

“Duly noted,” Allison said. “But maybe you shouldn’t have moved across the country.”

“Well maybe Princeton shouldn’t have given me a full ride,” Lydia said.

They’d managed to do undergrad together, at least along with Stiles and Scott, at University of California. Allison had taken criminal justice, and Stiles had double-majored with the same alongside teaching, while Scott double-majored in history and teaching. The three of them were already back at Beacon Hills. If Lydia were being honest with herself, trying to pursue her astrophysicist degree alone was hard. It was hard not to have her built in support network a hallway away.

“Hey, you zoning out? Have you been getting sleep?” Allison asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about how I miss you,” Lydia said. “Oh, and I almost forgot I found a grey hair today.”

“You’re honestly the only person in the world who’d sound excited by that,” Allison said.

“Who knew aging would be so great,” Lydia said. “But look, I gotta go. There’s a party one of my coworkers wants me to go to. Try not to let my mom run you over with wedding planning.”

“I wish it was that simple,” Allison said. “Have fun though. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

-.-

 

“I just don’t get why you’re all worked up by this,” Erica said. “It’s just Jackson.”

Boyd rested his chin on top of Erica’s head and set the laptop further up on her lap so he could load up Skype. “It just…everyone expects me to ask Isaac.”

“Who cares? It’s our wedding and you know Isaac won’t really care,” Erica said. “Just hit call already, and don’t make any excuses, I already double-checked his schedule and you aren’t interrupting anything important.”

“You think this out too well.”

Boyd hit call. Jackson was pursuing law at Harvard, the only one besides Lydia who hadn’t come home to Beacon Hills permanently, but that hadn’t dulled Boyd’s friendship with him. In a way, the distance strengthened it. It gave them an excuse, a justification, to talk as much as they now did.

“Hey,” Jackson said. He looked tired and there was a mess of books and notes on the bed behind him.

“Someone’s working hard,” Erica said.         

“I’m pretty sure my brain’s melting out my head. I appreciate the interruption,” Jackson said. “So what’s up?”

“I…want you to be my best man at Erica and mine’s wedding,” Boyd said in a rush.

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Boyd said.     

“He’s been really worked up about asking,” Erica said, laughing when Boyd poked at her sides in retaliation. “What, it’s true.”

“I’m just surprised that you asked me instead of Isaac,” Jackson said.

“Yeah well you’re kind of my best friend so it makes more sense to ask you. It felt right,” Boyd said.

“Thanks.” Jackson ducked his head and smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Which, by the way, I decided Boyd’s sister Stacy will be my bridesmaid. Allison and Lydia have enough on their plate planning their own wedding,” Erica said. “Between Stacy and my mom, things get done pretty fast.”

Boyd was still surprised they were able to keep their families blind to the whole werewolf thing. Of course, their parents still thought it was strange that even after getting their own business and turning a profit that they’d choose to live at the Hale House. They’d come to accept it though. Oddly, his and Erica’s business was the most profitable of all their packmate’s jobs, at least until Jackson and Lydia graduated.

Allison got paid pretty well as a cop, as did Stiles. Scott barely made money as a teacher and while Isaac had turned into a skilled mechanic, it wasn’t exactly a cash-cow. Selling Wiccan supplies to hippies and wiccans alike had taken off for them though. There were enough rumors of Beacon Hills to draw in enough customers, even if the supernatural avoided the area still. They did get the passing Druid though, usually visiting Deaton or Adrian. He and Erica usually gave them discounts.        

“Look, I want to keep talking but I have to study for finals,” Jackson said. “But Boyd? Thank you. Seriously, it means a lot that you’d ask.”

“Wouldn’t ask anyone else. Really.”

“And hey, maybe you and Stacy can get together,” Erica said with an exaggerated waggle.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Goodnight.”

Erica moved the laptop to the end of the bed and then moved to straddle Boyd’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck. “Do you think he’ll ever settle down?”    

Boyd rested his hands on her thighs. “I think he’s pretty settled with us. All of us. We’re all the family he needs, really, at least that’s the feeling I get.”

“Makes sense.” She ducked her head to start pressing a line of kisses to his throat. “I think this is all the family I really need too.”

 

-.-

 

Isaac pressed a kiss to the center of Derek’s sweaty chest and patted the side of his face. “Solid lay. Keep waiting for it to get boring but it never does.”

Derek snorted and reached down to ruffle Isaac’s hair. “Good to know.”

Isaac trailed his fingers up and down Derek’s side. It was still hard sometimes to just lay with each other and not talk. Even years after confronting any real, deadly threat, Isaac had trouble remember that not every moment needed to be devoted to planning. He liked this though. He liked being surrounded in the safe scent of his Alpha.

“What are you thinking about?” Derek asked, voice loud in the ear Isaac had pressed to his chest.

"Just…it’s been years and I still feel like I’m holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Isaac said. If he had gotten better at one thing, it was describing how he really felt. It had been difficult getting to that place, but it made his relationship with Derek better, especially since talking about his feelings had always come easier with other packmates.

“I think…at one point I would say that feeling never goes away,” Derek said. “But it’s starting to. I’ve been so scared of losing all of you the way I lost my family but…I won’t. It’s just taken awhile.”

Isaac closed his eyes, curling up closer to Derek’s warmth. “You’re pretty good at saying the right things.”

Derek huffed out a short laugh. “I’d hope so, at this point.”

“Seriously though. I feel like I’m having trouble you know, _feeling_ safe, but I don’t…I wouldn’t take any of it back. I’m better this way. I’m better with you,” Isaac said.

“I am too,” Derek said, squeezing the back of his neck. “That’s what makes us a pack. We all make each other better.”

 

-.-

 

Scott sat down next to Stiles on the huge boulder that sat on the edge of the bluff over-looking Beacon Hills. Stiles was stretched out on his back, hands tucked behind his head as he looked up at the stars. Scott copied him, grunting as the stretch made his joints pop.    

"Someone’s getting old,” Stiles said.

"Oh shut up,” Scott said. “Just be grateful I had time to come out tonight. I should’ve locked myself in my room and graded essays all night.”

“I feel honored,” Stiles said. “Allison and I were stuck doing reports at the station for a while but she released me so we could hang out.”

Scott rolled onto his side, ignoring the way the boulder dug into his side in favor of curling into Stiles’ side. They both lived in the Hale House with the rest of the pack, but their jobs made it hard to find time to just exist together the way they had in college. Four years of living in close quarters had helped. Stiles, more than anyone else, had been a solid rock to rely on.

Whether or not it was true, for years Stiles was the only one Scott _knew_ valued him even if he wasn’t a werewolf. Stiles had no problem working through it with him, and in a lot of ways they had healed together. Being a werewolf had pulled them apart. Being human had brought them together again, but now Scott was faced with a new problem.

“I’m thinking of asking Derek for the bite,” Scott said, voice soft.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, sitting up. “Why?”

Scott sat up as well. “I don’t know. I finally feel…comfortable as myself, like I know I’m not just a good person because I’m physically strong. I’m a good person because I’m me.”

“So what does it matter if you’re a werewolf or not?” Stiles didn’t sound judgmental, only pushing Scott like he always did, making him think.

“It’s not like I hated being one, I just hated that I didn’t get to make that choice for myself,” Scott said. “Both with being a werewolf and being an Alpha.”

“I don’t get it.”

Scott frowned. 

“Not like…I get _your_ logic,” Stiles said with an eye roll. “I’m just…pretty sure I’m cool with being human, you know? So I don’t get like, _why_ you want to be a werewolf. But that doesn’t matter.”

"What do you mean?” Scott asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’ve told you a million times,” Stiles said. “It doesn’t matter what you decided. You still have me. You’ll always have me.”

Scott’s chest tightened and he reached out to grab Stiles’ hand. “Thanks. Seriously.”

Stiles leaned over and pressed a kiss to Scott’s lips. “Never a problem. Not for me.”

Scott leaned against him and closed his eyes.

 

_~Fin~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of thanks need to be given, primarily to SublimeDiscordance. This series wouldn't exist without his years of support and bouncing ideas off of one another. Even when I stopped watching the show when the horrible writing made it impossible to keep watching, he kept me motivated to finish this series so without him this series wouldn't exist or have been finished. 
> 
> I do wish I had the time and energy to have written the last piece in this series at its full length (which would have been around 100k instead of 40k), but I'm pretty satisfied with how this has ended. Hopefully it is satisfying for the people who are still around reading this. My other thanks go to the people who have still been reading this all the way through the end. Knowing there is an audience for it definitely helped keep me going. 
> 
> So, as I graduate and move onto the next part of my life, I close the book on this series and this fandom. It's been rocky but good. Thank you.


End file.
